That part of him had become dependable to the point of ritual. Thursdays were his. He parked, got out, and scanned the gate until he saw Nora. She saw him a split second later and lit up so fast it was like watching a lamp come on.
“Daddy!”
She broke from the line and ran, pigtails flying, one shoe untied because of course it was. Nathan crouched automatically and caught her against him with both arms. She started talking before he even stood up.
“I made a bridge and Ms. Elena said mine held the most blocks and also Liam picked his nose at circle time and I drew a fox but it looked like a dog and can we get pretzels?”
He laughed.
Not the restaurant laugh from the photo. Not the slick public one either. Just a father’s laugh, slightly surprised, entirely present.
I let myself watch that for one beat too long, maybe because truth deserves to be noticed even when it comes from broken places.
Then he looked up and saw me.
Nora wriggled free and started digging in her backpack for the bent paper fox-dog hybrid she urgently needed him to admire. Nathan took two steps toward me and stopped at the respectful distance he had learned not to cross.
“Celeste.”
His voice was calm. Careful.
I nodded.