"Let's give Mom a minute," Andre said, stepping forward. "Caleb, Ms. Freeman has the dinosaur game ready. You can talk again after."
Caleb hesitated, then returned to his friends. Nia stayed. "Don't tell him something unless you know you can do it," she said to her mother.
Camille's expression tightened. "Nia, that's not fair."
"It wasn't fair to him either," Nia answered. She turned away before Camille could reply.
Andre guided Camille around the side of the house, far enough from the party that the children could not hear. He asked why she had promised to arrive in the morning when she knew a major client presentation was scheduled. Camille said the presentation had been moved at the last minute and she couldn't walk away from an account worth more than forty thousand dollars. She had planned to send a message after the meeting, but the afternoon had gotten away from her. She insisted that he didn't understand the pressure she was under.
"I understand pressure," Andre said. "I repair schools where the heat breaks in January. I understand someone needing me when I have two places to be. What I don't understand is telling a little boy you will be there before the candle, then letting him make up reasons you didn't come."
Camille folded her arms. "You could have told him I love him."
"I did. Every time he asked. But he also needed you to show up. Those are different things."
He told her what Barbara had said and what Caleb had asked that morning. Camille's face drained of color. She leaned against the brick wall, staring toward the yard where their son was laughing with his friends again.
"He asked whether he was the reason I left?"
"Yes."
"That's ridiculous. I would never want him to believe that."
"Then don't make him guess," Andre said. "Say the truth and make your actions match it."
Camille wiped beneath one eye with a fingertip. Andre almost reached to comfort her, out of a habit built over eleven years. He stopped himself. Her pain was real, but it was not the first pain in the house that deserved care.
"I came, didn't I?" she whispered.
"You did," he answered. "I'm glad you came. And he needed you this morning. Both things can be true."
She turned away, angry at his refusal to give her a clean ending. A minute later, she asked if he had received the email from her attorney. Andre had not. Camille said she had been looking into schools in Atlanta and wanted to discuss a different living arrangement for the children. She used phrases like fresh opportunities and a better neighborhood, as though the children were pieces of furniture that would fit more beautifully in a larger room. Andre listened until she finished.
"You mean you want them to move away from me," he said.
"I mean they deserve options."
"They deserve to know where they'll sleep next week. They deserve to know who will come when they call. And before any of us talk about moving, we are going to find out what they need, not just what looks better on paper."
Camille said he was punishing her for choosing a career. Andre shook his head. "I'm not punishing you. I'm refusing to let the kids pay for decisions we haven't made together."