I stared at her, openmouthed with shock. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll give him another chance. Say you forgive me for standing in the way before. I was scared—I’m still kind of scared—but the therapist says you can’t let fear get the best of you. She says I’m stronger than I think.”

“Oh, baby, of course I forgive you.” I sniffed as I rose from my chair and reached for her. “Come here.”

She stood up and we hugged for a long time.

“Your therapist is right. You are strong. And I’m so lucky to have a daughter like you,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you going to call him?”

“I’m going to think about it, I promise.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to detach herself from me. “But can I go now? Millie said she was going to be here around four, and I think it’s after that.”

“Oh. Sure.” I released her, and she gladly hightailed it out of the restaurant, leaving me to sink back into the chair and sit there in a stupor.

I couldn’t believe it. Whitney had gone to see Henry. Whitney was taking what she learned at therapy and helping me. Whitney and Keaton wanted me to give Henry another chance. They wanted me to have something of my own.

Was I strong enough to go after it? Was I brave enough to let myself love and be loved? Was I ready to talk down that voice of doubt in my head and offer my heart to Henry—whole, unguarded, and open?

I was sitting there struggling with it all when he suddenly burst into the empty restaurant. He seemed out of breath, like he’d been running, and when he spotted me sitting alone at the table, he moved toward me with long, purposeful strides.

He reached my side and stood above, his chest rising and falling fast, his eyes pinned on mine. “No,” he announced.

“No?” I blinked at him.

“No. I changed my mind. I’m not walking away. Fear doesn’t get to win.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. My legs were so weak and rubbery that he practically had to hold me up. “I love you, Sylvia. But more than that, I love us together. I love that you listen to me ramble on about volatile acidity like it’s the most fascinating subject in the world. I love that you don’t care if my shirts have holes. I love hearing you tell stories about growing up here. I love the way you smile at me across a room. I love the way I can guess what you’re thinking by the blush in your cheeks. I love the way you put family first, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do too.”