“You know, for months...maybe even years...I’ve been trying to figure out how to make it all better,” he says heavily. Weariness crosses his face, even as he shifts to avoid my gaze again. “I have everything I ever wanted in life. You. This house. My job. This family...for the most part. But every day it feels like you slip a little further away from me and you’re the key to it all. If I lose you, Alice...the rest of it goes too.”

There’s a rawness in this declaration that takes my breath away. Wade reaches for my hand, and he holds it against his cheek, then closes his eyes. I stare down at him, sitting there so vulnerable and, well, sitting on our toilet seat, of all of the places in the world we could have had this conversation. It turns out I do have some tears left after all, because as I see my handsome, brilliant husband so desperate at last to fix us when for so long I’ve feared he didn’t even care that we were broken, my vision blurs again.

“Babcia means the world to you, and you mean the world to me,” he whispers now. “I love her too, of course, but...even though I said stupid things and you were angry, I know you wouldn’t have booked those tickets if, on some level, you didn’t want to go. So—knowing that—I’m going to do everything in my power to help you to get there.”

“I think you’re conflating two disparate issues,” I say unevenly. He gives me a wry look.

“Am I?”

“Babcia’s situation has nothing to do with...”

“Let’s do a thought experiment,” Wade says. He releases my hand, then leans back against the toilet cistern and raises his eyebrows at me. “Imagine a situation where we had our second child and he happened to be exactly like his very gifted big sister. No...challenges. Tell me what your life would look like by now?”

I can’t let myself picture that. I can’t let myself want a different son, not for a single second. We got the son we got. I love him just the way he is, and I always will. I stiffen and shake my head.

“You know what it would look like.”

“Humor me, Ally. Would you have gone on this trip if we had more typical seven-and ten-year-old children?”

In a heartbeat.

I already hate this game, but it brings startling clarity. I keep telling myself my family needs me to stay. But maybe it’s not my family—not Callie or Wade or the group collectively that hold me back from going away for a few days. It’s Eddie, because unlike my brilliant husband and equally brilliant daughter, Eddie needs me. Wade stands, and he rests his hands on my shoulders gently. I reluctantly meet his gaze.

“You’d have gone on the trip, Ally,” he whispers. “Because you would have trusted me to look after our kids if Edison had been born different.”

“I do trust you,” I say, but the words are stiff so the lie is unconvincing. Wade sighs, then he tenderly brushes a wet tendril of hair from my shoulder.

“We were always going to go to Europe, weren’t we?” he says softly. “Shit, I’ve been half a dozen times for conferences and you never even blinked an eye while you waited back here at home for me. We were going to be the family who took their kids on overseas holidays, to broaden their horizons and show them the world. I know that’s not really possible for us at the moment, but it was something you always wanted, even more than I did. You took so many great holidays as a kid with Pete and Julita, didn’t you?”

“I don’t want to take this trip to go on a holiday,” I say defensively.

“I know. I’m not even saying that. I’m saying...this means something to you, and this is the first time I’ve seen you reaching for something beyond the kids in years.”

“The kids are important. They’re...this family is my life’s work, in the same way that your job and your research is yours.”

“I get that. I really do. The kids are important but...” Wade says hesitantly, “so is Babcia, right?” When I nod, he adds softly, “It’s okay to want something that doesn’t involve me and the kids, you know. We’re all important—but damn it, Ally—so are you.”

I can’t remember the last time he said those words to me. It nearly breaks my heart to hear them—and I start to cry again. I nod at Wade through my tears, and he embraces me tightly. We stand like that for a few moments, until the chill in the air starts to get to me and I pull away from him and reach for a Kleenex to wipe my eyes. I open the door to our bedroom and step out to find some pajamas, and Wade follows me, watching silently. Once I’m dressed, he smiles gently.

“So, honey...this is happening?”

I’m reassured. I’m comforted. I feel supported now, but I’m still torn, and honestly, I’m still scared. I shrug a little.

“Can I think about it tonight?”

“Sure,” he says, then the corner of his mouth lifts and he flashes me the cheeky grin that was half the reason I fell in love with him in the first place. “I mean, you’ve already paid for flights and I’ve just splashed out a small fortune for a private guide for three days, but sure—go ahead and think about it too.”

“God,” I whisper, then I close my eyes and swallow. “Even aside from the family, I’m kind of nervous. I don’t really know what Babcia wants—not exactly. And I don’t know how to prepare Eddie for this—or even how to prepare you for the—”

“Leave Eddie to me,” Wade says.

I open my eyes and stare at him. “What would you even do with him on the days when he’s not at school?”

“I’ve already thought about that. Ideally, he’d go to school full-time, but if you’re absolutely sure he can’t deal with that—”

“He can’t.”

“Then I’ll take him to the office with me.”

Once upon a time I desperately wanted Wade to take Eddie to work for a visit, but Wade was determined all along that it was just too risky—he has a very large, chaotic office full of towering stacks of paperwork and heavy reference books—and it’s in an industrial research complex that he insisted was fraught with danger. Callie has visited Wade at work several times. Eddie has not. That was Wade’s decision all along.

“But—”

“I know, Alice,” he interrupts me, abruptly. I fall silent. “I know I said it was a bad idea when you asked me in the past, but I’ve really thought about it tonight, and we can make it work. I want to push him a little this week, to get him out of his comfort zone.”

It’s late. We’re both exhausted. We stare at each other, and I can tell we’re both desperately trying to stop this from disintegrating into a fight. Even with the tension, this is still a more honest argument than any we’ve had in recent history, which have always been littered with passive-aggressive taunts and hints.