Chapter 16
“You have a company.”
“I have a plane.”
I looked up.
“That sentence is exactly why normal people find billionaires irritating.”
For the first time, he laughed.
It vanished quickly.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He leaned forward.
“Natalie, I missed five years. I cannot agree to two weekends a year because our homes are inconveniently located.”
“I didn’t say two weekends.”
“I want time.”
“And they need stability.”
“I understand.”
“No. You understand schedules. Stability is different.”
His expression hardened slightly.
I continued before he could interrupt.
“They have school. Friends. Pediatricians. Rebecca lives fifteen minutes away. Their whole life is there.”
“I’m not asking you to move tomorrow.”
“Good.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Would you ever?”
“No.”
The answer surprised both of us.
Ryan leaned back.
“No?”
“I built my life there.”
“You built it because you were running away from me.”
“I started it that way. It stopped being about you a long time ago.”
He looked wounded.
I did not intend it cruelly.
It was simply true.
Northline existed there.
My family existed there.
The children’s world existed there.
Ryan rested his hands on the table.
“Then I’ll come to Chicago.”
I stared at him.
“For visits.”
“For whatever they need.”
“You hate Chicago winters.”
“I’ll buy a coat.”
I almost laughed.
He looked serious.
That became our beginning.
Not romance.
Parenthood.
Ryan flew to Chicago twice in the first month.
Then three times the next.
At first he stayed at a hotel.
Later he bought a small apartment less than twenty minutes from our house.
By Ryan standards, “small” still meant absurdly expensive.
But he did not buy a mansion.
He did not build three designer bedrooms.
He asked the children what they wanted.
Alex wanted a desk near a window.
Ethan wanted bunk beds even though nobody needed them.
Lily wanted a lamp shaped like a moon.
Ryan got all three.
He also attended kindergarten family reading day.
The first time he walked into the classroom, half the parents recognized him.
Ryan Whitmore appeared regularly in financial magazines.
One father whispered something to another.
Ryan ignored them.
He sat on a tiny blue chair and read a book about a stubborn bear while Ethan corrected his voices.
That evening, Ryan texted me.
I have negotiated sovereign debt with less criticism than Ethan gave my bear.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
That frightened me.