She nodded.
Then she looked toward the window.
“Do you ever wish you’d moved in with us?”
I considered the question honestly.
“Yes,” I said.
Her face fell slightly.
“Not because of the basement. Not because of the money. I sometimes wish I could wake up and hear the children playing upstairs. I wish I could walk into your kitchen and have coffee with you whenever I wanted.”
She looked down.
“But I don’t wish I had given up this house. I needed to know I could build a life of my own. I needed to know I could be close to you without having to belong to you.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I understand that now.”
I squeezed her hand.
“Good. Because I have another confession.”
“What?”
“I would love to have the children here every other Saturday.”
Her face brightened.
“Really?”
“Really. But some Saturdays I might be busy.”
