I remembered saying it. I had said it like a joke.
“I couldn’t stand it,” Julian said. “I couldn’t give your mother back. I couldn’t give you the childhood she wanted for you. But I could make sure that for once in your life, somebody chose you on purpose. Out loud. In front of witnesses. Not because they had to. Because they wanted to.”
His voice was thick.
“It wasn’t guilt that made me ask you. It was the guilt that kept me from asking sooner. The marriage was the one thing I did for you that wasn’t about her. It was about you.”
He coughed, then gathered himself.
“Two more things, and then I’ll let you go.
“First—go finish nursing school. The insurance money is for that. Your mom was two semesters from her RN when she died. I think she’d like it if one of you crossed that line.
