Richard stared at his phone for a long time before his thumb hovered over Eleanor's name. He felt the familiar pinch of dread tightening behind his ribs. The house was quiet. Drew and Chloe had gone to their rooms after breakfast, leaving behind plates smeared with maple syrup and the faint, restless weight of everything unsaid.
He exhaled, steadying himself, then pressed call.
The ringing sounded too loud in the empty kitchen. It stretched, once, twice, three times, until at last she answered.
"Yes," Eleanor said. There was always that slight coolness in her voice, as though she were bracing for inconvenience.
"It's Richard," he said. "We need to arrange for you to meet with the children."
A beat of silence. He imagined her blinking, clearing her throat, trying to assemble some version of composure.
"Alright," she said. "Where?"
"A coffee shop. Neutral. Somewhere quiet."
"Fine," she said. "When?"
"This afternoon," he said. "Two o'clock."
Another pause. "That soon?"
"They want answers," Richard said. "And they shouldn't have to wait."
"I see," she murmured. He could almost hear her turning away from the receiver, as though the conversation itself was too bright to look at directly. "Well. Fine. Two o'clock. That little place on Dorset Corner."
"And I am sitting in," Richard said.
"What?" Her voice sharpened. "Richard, no. I want to see them alone. This is between me and the children, not us."
"It isn't negotiable," he said. "I am sitting in."
She started to protest. He could feel her beginning to gather her arguments, the slow rising of defensiveness he had once known too well.
"Eleanor," he said quietly. "This is not up for discussion. They do not want to see you alone. And I will not have them feeling cornered or unsupported. I will sit in."
"Fine," she said, clipped now, irritated. "If that is what you insist on."
"It is," he said. "There is something else."
"What now?" She sounded even more irritated.
"Drew wants to ask you why you left." He waited a breath. "Because you did not just leave me. You left them."
"Oh God," she murmured, and he pictured her closing her eyes, pressing her fingers to her forehead. "I don't want to talk about that."
"You owe them the truth," Richard said. "They are sixteen and eighteen now. They understand more than you think. They are sensitive and intelligent and they have grown into remarkable human beings. If you had ever taken the time to know them, you would know that already."
"That is not fair," she muttered. "You know I was never prepared for children. I was overwhelmed. I did not know what I was doing. And you were always working."
Richard felt something old and familiar flare through him. "I worked because I was lonely in my own home. I worked to keep from feeling how cold things had become. But even then I saw how you pulled away from them, how you never really bonded with them. I should have confronted you sooner. I know that."
"Everything fell apart," she said. "You cannot blame only me."
"I never did," he said quietly. "But they deserve to hear your side from you. And they deserve to ask their questions. If you are not prepared to explain why you left and why you did not contact them for nine months, then do not expect a relationship with them. I will not force them. I will not deny them either. It is their choice."
She did not respond for a long time. He could hear faint breathing, the subtle shifting of someone wrestling with something unwelcome.
"I will see you all at two," she said finally.
Then she hung up.
Richard let the phone drift away from his ear, the silence that followed oddly heavy, as though the conversation had condensed into something physical and set itself down on his chest. He placed the phone on the counter and let out a long breath he had not realised he was holding.
He climbed the stairs and knocked lightly on Chloe's door then Drew's. "We're meeting your mum at two," he said. "Just letting you both know."
Chloe opened her door. Her eyes looked worried, but steady, the way they always did when she was managing more than she let on. She nodded. "OK."
Drew stood at his door, leaning against the door frame with his hands shoved into his pockets. He did not say anything. He only looked down at the carpet, shoulders drawn up as though he were bracing for a blow.
Richard saw it. The trembling beneath the stillness. It cut straight through him.
"Come on," he said gently. "Let's go sit."
He led them to the living room and took the sofa, patting the cushion beside him for Drew. Chloe sank into the armchair opposite them, her legs folded beneath her.
Richard looked at both of them. "There are things you should know," he said. "About your mother. About me. About everything that happened."
Chloe nodded, patient and open. Drew kept his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Your mother and I were growing apart for years," Richard said. "Long before she left. I should have confronted her sooner. I knew something was wrong. I knew she was unhappy. But I was afraid of what I might find if I asked. So I buried myself in work instead of facing things."
"Dad," Chloe said softly. "Don't blame yourself. People don't always stay in love forever. You can't carry that alone. And we don't blame you for thinking staying together was better for us. Most parents try to do that."
Richard swallowed once. Her understanding hit him harder than her anger ever could have.
"You also couldn't have known what she would be like as a mother," Chloe continued. "No one knows until the children are there. You couldn't have predicted any of it."
Richard nodded, breathing carefully. "I hear you," he said. "I just wish I had managed things better."
He turned to Drew. "Do you agree with what Chloe said?"
Drew shrugged, the smallest lift of one shoulder. His eyes glistened, but he kept them lowered.
Chloe stood, walked around the coffee table and sat beside her brother. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"It's all right," she murmured to him. "You're safe. No one is going to be upset with you for however you feel. You don't have to hide it. Not from us."
Richard felt something in his throat tighten. He reached out and put his arm around Drew's shoulders, drawing him close. "Everything Chloe said is true," he said. "Whatever you feel is allowed. I will always be here for you. Both of you. I love you more than anything and I will not let anyone hurt you again. I only hope you can forgive me for the mistakes I made."
Chloe nodded at once. "We already have."
Drew's breath hitched. He leaned a fraction into Richard's shoulder. "I forgive you," he said, barely audible.
Richard pressed a kiss to the top of his son's head, the way he used to when Drew was small enough to lay on his chest while he slept.
"Thank you," he whispered.
For a long time they sat like that, a quiet circle of warmth stitched together by fear and loyalty and love.
Eventually Drew straightened, wiping at his face with the heel of his hand.
"I am not ready," he said. "To see her. I thought I might be, but I am not. Can you tell her it has to be another day?"
Richard nodded. "Of course. Whatever you need."
He looked toward Chloe. "What about you?"
Chloe shook her head. "I am not going without Drew. We do this together. All of us."
Richard felt a rush of emotion swell through his chest. Relief, gratitude, sorrow for how much they had borne, pride for the kindness and clarity they somehow still carried.
"Alright," he said. "We will postpone it. I will call her and tell her you need more time."
Chloe squeezed Drew's hand. Drew let her hold it.
Richard leaned back, exhaling slowly. Something inside him loosened. Not relief exactly, but a sense that they were at least turning toward the same horizon, even if the path ahead was uncertain.
He looked at his children. His almost grown, vulnerable, brave children. And he understood with a clarity that astounded him that whatever happened next, whatever messy truth Eleanor offered or refused to offer, whatever questions were answered or left hanging, they would face it together.
"Why do you think she left?" Drew asked suddenly. His voice shook. "Do you know?"
Richard met his son's eyes. "No," he said honestly. "I have my guesses, but I don't know. That is why I want her to answer you herself. You deserve that."
Drew nodded, swallowing hard.
Richard put a hand on each of their knees, grounding himself in the contact. "We will handle this one step at a time," he said. "No rushing. No pressure. If you decide tomorrow you never want to see her, I will support you. If you decide next week that you do want a relationship with her, I will support you. Whatever you choose, I will be right beside you."
Chloe leaned her head briefly against Drew's shoulder. Drew let out a wavering breath, not quite a sob, but close enough to make Richard's throat sting.
"I love you," Richard said again. "Both of you."
They both nodded. They both managed a quiet "Love you too."
The room settled into silence. Not heavy this time, but warm, shared, steady.
It would take time. It would take patience. It would take honesty and more strength than any of them had needed before. But they were together. And that, Richard realised, was the one thing that had not changed, not even through everything that had been torn apart.
When the clock in the hallway chimed the hour, Richard squeezed their knees once more, then rose to stand.
"I'll go call her," he said. "We'll take it from there."
And for the first time since Eleanor appeared at the door two days earlier, he felt certain that whatever came next, they would endure it as a family.