The meeting wound down without ceremony, its end as soft as its beginning.
Robert leaned back, hands folded on the desk, his expression thoughtful rather than guarded. Beside him, Isabelle rested one hand unconsciously at her collarbone, eyes bright with a careful attention that told Richard she was already mapping the implications in her mind.
Breaking the quiet, he said, "I know this is a lot. I don't expect answers today, or even this week." He glanced between them, deliberately unhurried. "Things stay exactly as they are for now. Nothing changes unless you want it to. You'll have questions. You should. Take all the time you need."
Robert let out a slow breath. "No deadline, then?"
"No," Richard said simply. "This only works if it's right for all of us."
Isabelle nodded, something in her shoulders loosening. "I appreciate that. It's… generous. Thoughtful."
"A habit of mine," he offered with a small smile. "Plans last when they're chosen, not rushed."
They spoke a little longer, logistics set aside, details left deliberately vague. When the call ended, Richard sat for a moment, hands flat on the desk. The room felt quieter now, the kind of silence that follows a significant turn.
He stood, reached for his coat, and knew he couldn't stay inside.
Early January sharpened the world. Crisp air cleared his mind; pale, clean sky stretched thin winter light across the pavement. He walked without direction, breath curling white, thoughts settling into a calmer rhythm with each step. For the first time in weeks, he felt light.
The future no longer pressed in from all sides. It felt… organised. Intentional. A shape he recognised.
Without overthinking, he pulled out his phone and called Helene.
"Richard?" She answered at once.
"Hi," he said, warmth crept into his voice unbidden. "What are you doing?"
He could hear her smile. "Playing with Luke. Thinking of taking a break."
"How about lunch instead?" he asked. "I haven't seen you in over a week."
A brief pause, then her tone softened. "I'd like that."
They picked somewhere simple, unpretentious — a small café with steamed-up windows, tables close enough that conversations overlapped gently without intruding. Helene arrived wrapped in her coat, hair tousled by wind, her eyes brightening when she spotted him.
No rush to greet each other, just a smile, a brief touch of his hand at her elbow as they sat.
Lunch unfolded easily, moving between ordinary chatter and meaning without pause. He told her, in broad strokes, about the meeting: stepping back, trusting Robert and Isabelle, wanting the company to grow without consuming everything else.
She listened as she always did; fully, as if his words mattered not for what they were, but for who was speaking them.
"I'm happy for you," she said quietly.
He felt it land deep and steady. "That means more than you know."
When the plates were cleared and afternoon light pressed against the windows, he hesitated just a moment.
"Would you like to come back to my house?" he asked. "Just for tea, or coffee. The children will be there." He watched her carefully, no pressure in his gaze.
She considered it, fingers wrapping around her mug. "I'd like that. But I don't want to rush Drew. If he's not ready..."
"You won't be," he said at once. "I'll ask him."
He sent the message while she watched, thumb steady on the screen: Would you be alright if Helene came over for tea? No pressure at all.
A minute later, the reply came: OK.
Relief flooded through him.
Inside his house, gentle quiet wrapped around them the moment the door closed. Chloe appeared first, already smiling. "Hi, Helene. Do you take sugar?"
Helene laughed softly, surprised and relieved in equal measure. "One, thank you."
"I'll put the kettle on," Chloe said, heading for the kitchen.
Drew hovered in the doorway, then nodded once. "I just put brownies in the oven, ten more minutes."
Helene's eyes softened. She met his gaze, careful and sincere. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you."
He disappeared back to the kitchen, a hint of purpose in his step.
They sat in the living room, tea steaming between them, the house alive with small domestic sounds. Chloe chatted about her university acceptances; Helene asked questions, listened, laughed at the right moments. Drew checked the oven, lingered long enough to mention a game he was working on, then retreated again.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic.
It was quiet acceptance, offered freely.
Richard watched it all with a fullness he hadn't expected so soon. Helene fit there, not seamlessly, not perfectly, but genuinely. Present without intruding. Careful without keeping her distance.
When the brownies were done, Drew brought them in on a plate, setting it down with a shy smile.
"They're still warm."
Helene looked at him, eyes bright.
"You've made my day," she said simply.
He smiled back before sitting on the arm of the sofa beside Chloe.
Later, when Helene stood to leave, there was no ceremony, no lingering, no expectation, just quiet, unmistakable gratitude.
"Thank you for letting me come," she said, looking at both children. "I really enjoyed it. And the brownies were excellent."
Chloe smiled. Drew nodded, his small smile deliberate.
Then they both stepped forward, almost at once, and hugged her. Helene returned it gently, no presumption, no overwhelming. Richard followed her to the door, hand resting briefly at her back before she stepped outside.
The drive was quiet; not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. She watched the passing streets, hands folded in her lap, fingers twisting lightly. When he glanced over, her eyes were bright with held emotion.
"What are you thinking?" he asked softly.
She hesitated, then said, "I can't quite believe how well that went. I keep waiting for it to feel… I don't know."
He reached across and took her hands in his free one, anchoring them. "I can. I told you they'd like you. And they did. You were yourself, that's always been enough."
She didn't look at him right away.
"Hey," he said gently. "What is it?"
"Nothing's wrong," she said quickly. "I'm happy, really. I'm just… anxious."
"About what?"
"All of this," she turned to him then. "Us. Falling in love now, at this stage of our lives. What it means for your children, for Isabelle, for my grandchildren. I don't want to disrupt anything. I don't want to be a complication."
He was quiet for a moment, watching her with the steady attentiveness she'd come to trust.
"You're not a disruption," he said. "You're an addition. And nothing about you feels complicated to me, care just requires thought. That's all."
She let out a small, unsteady laugh. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is," he said. "Not easy. But simple. I'm not asking anyone to choose between the people they love. I'm choosing you, carefully, thoughtfully, with room for everyone else."
Her shoulders eased a little. "I've spent so long making myself smaller. Out of habit."
"I know," he replied, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "You don't have to do that with me."
She looked at him then, really looked, and nodded once. "Thank you. For holding space for me."
"You're worth it, Helene. Don't ever doubt that."
When he pulled up outside the house, neither moved right away.
"I had a very good afternoon," she said at last.
"So did I."
She smiled, warmer now, steadier. "You'll call me…?"
"Of course, Helene."
She stepped out, turned once to wave, and he watched until the door closed behind her. Something settled and sure in his chest, no urgency, no doubt, just quiet knowledge that they were doing this the right way.
Back in his own house, he stood in the hallway a moment longer, her presence still warm in the air. He had never been happier than in that quiet, ordinary moment, standing in his home, knowing that what mattered most was gently aligning.
He felt certain everything was exactly as it was meant to be.