Chapter 16
Two years after Ellie saved me, she called me “Mr. A.”
Not Mr. Adrian.
Not boss.
Mr. A.
She said it sounded “less like a grown-up in trouble.”
I accepted the promotion.
Hannah laughed when she heard it.
“You’ve been renamed by a five-year-old. Nothing you can do.”
“I run several companies.”
“Not anymore.”
She was right.
I ran a foundation.
A few legal businesses under strict oversight.
And one household where Ellie believed dessert should be discussed democratically.
My old men scattered.
Some prison.
Some retirement.
Some honest jobs.
Tony stayed.
He became head of security for the foundation and learned to carry crayons in his jacket because Ellie demanded emergency art supplies.
He claimed it was tactical.
Nobody believed him.
Hannah and I grew close slowly.
Painfully.
Honestly.
We fought sometimes.
She hated when I tried to solve fear with money.
I hated when she refused help she needed.
Once, after a hard argument about her apartment lease, she said, “I am not one of your broken windows to replace.”
I answered too sharply.
“And I am not every man who ever made help a trap.”
We stopped.
Both breathing hard.
Then she whispered, “That’s true.”
I said, “Yours too.”
We apologized.
Not perfectly.
But sincerely.
Ellie watched us from the doorway.
“Are you still friends?”
Hannah looked at me.
I looked at her.
“Yes,” I said.
Hannah nodded.
“Friends can argue and be kind after.”
Ellie considered this.
“Good. Because Rosie argues with socks.”
Life became strange.
Not easy.
Strange.
I attended school plays.
I learned the names of allergy-safe snacks.
I sat through foundation board meetings where Hannah challenged me in front of everyone and was usually right.
Then one autumn evening, Ellie had a reaction at school.
Mild.
Controlled.
The nurse used one of the EpiPens.
Hannah called me from the ambulance.
“She’s okay.”
I was already in the car.
At the hospital, Ellie looked embarrassed.
“I didn’t save anybody this time.”
I sat beside her bed.
“You saved yourself. That counts most.”
She smiled.
Hannah squeezed my shoulder.
That night, I realized I had stopped waiting for life to punish me every time I loved something.
May you like
Not completely.
But enough to breathe.
