Chapter 5 - The Price of Regret
Three months later, Daniel signed the divorce papers.
There were no cameras.
No attorneys in the room.
Just Daniel, Margaret, and a pen.
He stared at Amy’s signature.
Then added his beneath it.
Seven years ended in less than ten seconds.
Margaret sat across from him.
“You can still love someone after losing the right to ask them back.”
Daniel closed the folder.
“I know.”
It was the lesson he hated most.
Vanessa’s audit had become a criminal investigation.
She had diverted foundation money through shell vendors, manipulated press coverage, and fabricated travel expenses.
But the investigation also confirmed something Amy had never known.
Daniel and Vanessa had never slept together.
They had kissed once in Chicago after too much bourbon.
Daniel had immediately stopped it.
Then committed a different kind of cowardice.
He never told Amy.
He allowed Vanessa to remain close because firing her would create scandal before a merger.
He protected his company from embarrassment at the expense of his wife’s dignity.
When Amy’s attorney forwarded the findings, she read them twice.
Then closed the email.
Noah found her sitting outside Harbor & Pine.
“He didn’t sleep with her,” Amy said.
Noah sat beside her.
“Does that change anything?”
She thought about Daniel’s empty chair at dinner.
The nights alone.
The promises postponed.
The fact that she had carried his child for four months while wondering when there would be a convenient time to tell him.
“No.”
Then she cried anyway.
Noah let her.
He did not touch her until she leaned into him.
Amy rested her head against his shoulder.
“I feel stupid.”
“For what?”
“Part of me wanted proof he cheated. Something clean. Something everyone would understand.”
“Because emotional neglect is harder to explain.”
“Yes.”
Noah looked toward the ocean.
“You don’t need a jury, Ames.”
That sentence changed something inside her.
Weeks passed.
Amy’s belly grew.
So did her new life.
She started freelance editing.
Then she convinced Noah to transform the unused upstairs room beside her old apartment into a workshop for local writers.
He named it The Lighthouse Room.
Amy accused him of being sentimental.
He pleaded guilty.
At thirty-three weeks, Noah built the crib.
Amy stood in the doorway watching him struggle with instructions.
“You put that piece backward.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You absolutely did.”
Noah examined it.
“Manufacturer defect.”
Amy laughed.
He looked up.
There it was again.
That warmth.
Not hunger.
Not possession.
Something deeper.
Home.
Amy crossed the room.
“Noah.”
He stood.
She kissed him.
Just once.
Softly.
He froze.
Amy immediately panicked.
“I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“Amy.”
He cupped her face, then stopped.
“Can I?”
She nodded.
Noah kissed her.
Slowly.
No urgency.
No claiming.
When they separated, his forehead rested against hers.
“I have wanted to do that since I was sixteen.”
Amy laughed.
“You waited seventeen years?”
“Terrible time management.”
She laughed harder.
Then suddenly winced.
Noah went pale.
“What?”
“My back.”
“Hospital?”
“No.”
A beat.
Amy’s eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“What?”
Warm liquid spread across the floor.
Noah stared down.
Amy stared down.
Then both looked at each other.
“My water broke.”
Noah dropped the crib screwdriver.
The next thirty minutes were chaos.
Hospital bag.
Car keys.
Amy yelling that Noah was driving too slowly.
Noah reminding her that going to jail for speeding would not improve the delivery.
At the hospital, labor progressed quickly.
Amy’s attorney had already informed Daniel.
He arrived six hours later.
But he did not enter.
He sat in the waiting room.
Margaret joined him.
“You can go in if she wants you.”
“She hasn’t asked.”
Hours passed.
Then Noah emerged.
His hair was disheveled.
His eyes were wet.
Daniel stood.
Noah looked at him for several seconds.
Then smiled.
“You have a daughter.”
Daniel’s knees nearly buckled.
“A daughter?”
“She’s healthy.”
Daniel covered his mouth.
“And Amy?”
“Exhausted. Fine.”
Daniel looked toward the maternity doors.
“Does she…”
Noah understood.
“I’ll ask.”
He returned ten minutes later.
“She says you can come in.”
Daniel entered like a man approaching an altar.
Amy lay against white pillows.
In her arms was the smallest person Daniel had ever seen.
His daughter.
Everything inside him shattered.
Amy looked up.
“Her name is Lily Claire Harrison.”
Daniel stared.
“Lily.”
Amy nodded.
“Would you like to hold her?”
His eyes filled.
“I don’t know how.”
“I didn’t either.”
Amy carefully placed Lily into his arms.
Daniel looked down.
Tiny nose.
Closed eyes.
One miniature fist against her cheek.
His daughter opened her eyes.
Daniel began crying.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
Amy watched.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She knew he was not speaking only to Lily.
“I know.”
Daniel looked at Amy.
“I should have been there.”
“Yes.”
No comfort.
No lie.
Just truth.
“I will spend the rest of my life being there for her.”
Amy nodded.
“That’s all I ask.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“And Noah?”
Amy followed his gaze.
“He was there.”
Three words.
Daniel understood them perfectly.
Not just tonight.
He had been there in every way Daniel had not.
Daniel kissed Lily’s forehead.
Then returned her to Amy.
At the door, he stopped.
“I hope he knows how lucky he is.”
Amy’s eyes softened.
“He does.”
Daniel walked into the hallway.
Noah was waiting.
The two men looked at each other.
Daniel held out his hand.
Noah stared at it before taking it.
“Take care of them.”
Noah’s expression changed.
“I will.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No. That came out wrong.”
He looked back toward Amy’s room.
“She doesn’t need either of us to take care of her.”
For the first time, Noah smiled at him.
Daniel continued.
“Just don’t make her feel alone when she isn’t.”
Noah’s smile faded.
“I won’t.”
Daniel walked away.
Only inside the elevator did he finally break.
Because the happiest day of his life had also shown him exactly what his regret would cost.
May you like
He had become a father.
But another man had become Amy’s home.
