“I didn’t let her.”

“What happened?”

“We argued.”

“And?”

“She said you were putting pressure on me.”

I stared at him.

“What did you say?”

“I told her you hadn’t.”

“And then?”

“She asked whether I would choose her if you ever made me.”

I felt my chest tighten.

“What did you say?”

He looked at me.

“I said I hoped I would never have to.”

That sentence told me more than anything else.

Madison had spent months creating a contest Ethan had never asked to enter.

And instead of rejecting the contest, he had tried to avoid choosing sides.

Today, avoidance had chosen for him.

He had chosen me as the person who could take the damage.

I reached across the table.

“You’re my son.”

He looked at my hand.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to choose between us.”

His eyes filled.

“But I do have to choose what kind of man I want to be.”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

He wiped his face.

“What happens now?”

I looked at the ruined gown.

Then at him.

“Now you decide whether you’re ready to become one.”

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