She smiled, though sadness lingered at the edges. “You have given them more hope in a month than I managed in years.”
“You kept them alive,” he said. “You carried everything alone. I should have been there.”
They stopped at the overlook where the skyline shimmered in the distance. Taryn studied him for several moments before speaking again. “You have changed.”
“Success does that,” he said. “But so does guilt.”
She touched his arm lightly. “I do not want you to live in regret.”
“I do not,” he replied. “Not now that I have found you again.”
Spring became summer. Mason moved into an apartment only a few blocks away from the family so he could be present every day. He cooked dinners, helped with homework, and read bedtime stories while the children giggled beneath their blankets.
One warm evening, they stood together on the balcony of Taryn’s apartment, watching the streetlights flicker on. The children were asleep. The air smelled faintly of grilled food drifting up from a nearby restaurant.
“Mason,” Taryn said softly. “You have given us a new beginning.”
“So have you,” he replied.
Their hands brushed. Neither pulled away.