"Ever since your mother passed, it's the thing that keeps me up at night. Not dying. I made my peace with dying a while ago. Being alone doesn't scare me either. I had 41 years with the love of my life."
"That's more than most men get. What scares me, M, is the thought of leaving you the way you've been. Strong and alone and proving to the world you don't need anybody. Because a father can't die easy leaving a daughter like that behind." His voice cracked.
"But these last two months, watching you out in that garden, laughing again, arguing with this big fella about levels, watching you actually let somebody in for the first time in 3 years, I've been able to breathe. Because I looked at you and I thought, she's going to be okay. If it's my time, whenever it comes, she's going to be okay. She's got people now."
Emily was sobbing now, her forehead pressed to their joined hands. "So don't you dare," Harold said, his own tears falling now. "Don't you dare use my heart as one more reason to run to Chicago and lock the door behind you. And don't you dare use it as a reason to hide down here and never live either." "You hear me?"
"My collapsing does not get a vote in your life anymore than Daniel does. You make your choices out of what you want, out of love, not out of fear of losing people. Because everybody loses people, baby. The only question is whether you let anybody in before you do." The hospital room was silent except for the steady beep of the monitor and the sound of Emily crying.
Marcus stood on the other side of the bed with his heart in his throat, understanding that he was witnessing something sacred. A father faced with his own mortality, using the moment to try one last time to set his daughter free. After a long moment, Emily lifted her head. Her face was a wreck, but her eyes were clear. "I already decided," she said.
Harold blinked. "Decided what? About Chicago?" Emily wiped her face with both hands. "I decided this morning before any of this. That's actually why I didn't answer my phone when Marcus called."
"I was on the other line with the firm." Marcus felt his heart stop. Harold's grip tightened on her hand. And Emily looked at Marcus, held his eyes, and Marcus braced himself because he'd meant every word he said in that kitchen. He'd told her to take it.
He'd told her to go. He'd made himself into the kind of man who could survive her leaving. And now the moment was here, and he found that all his noble words didn't make his chest hurt any less. "I told them no," Emily said. The room went absolutely still.
"Emily," Marcus started. "Let me finish." She turned to him, and there was steel in her now and certainty. "I told them no, and before you do the noble thing and lecture me about not shrinking my life for a man, that's not what this is. I need you to hear that."