The Day I Stopped Holding This Family Together Chapter 20

The Day I Stopped Holding This Family Together Chapter 20: What Gets Said on the Record
Nadia ran a second episode the following Monday.
We had recorded it on Friday — me, in the studio, with Ms. Reyes and Ryker both sitting outside the booth in case I wanted to walk out — and Nadia had spent the weekend cutting it.
This time, we used names.
This time, I named Cade. I named the firm. I named the timeline. I named the IVF, and the medical records Elena had thrown on the floor of a ballroom, and the school form that erased me. I named Tahoe. I named the lie my husband had told my son. I named Elena’s identity as Ryker’s ex-wife. I named everything.
I did not name Ryker as a love interest. I named him as a witness. The story was about a marriage. The man who had loved me from across a boardroom was not yet a chapter. He would be his own story, in his own time.
The episode aired at 7 AM.
By 10 AM, Lawson & Associates had announced a “voluntary leave of absence” for its founder, pending an internal review.
By noon, Elena Harding had been fired.
By 2 PM, Cade’s PR firm had dropped him.
By 4 PM, the Austin Business Journal had run a follow-up: *Sienna Lawson, the Architect Behind Lawson & Associates, Named in Civil Suit for Six Years of Back Wages.*
By 6 PM, I had three job offers, two book agents in my inbox, and one voicemail from Julian’s office offering me a Director of Operations role at his fund, starting whenever I was ready.
I did not answer any of them that day.
That day, I picked Theo up from school, and we went to get tacos.
He was quiet at first. He had heard the second episode. He had asked, that morning, to listen to the whole thing, and I had said yes, and we had sat at the kitchen island together for forty-seven minutes while my voice came out of his phone speaker, telling him every single thing his father had done.
When it was over, he had put his phone down.
He had looked at me.
He had said, “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
That had been an hour before school.
Now, at tacos, he set down his second al pastor and said, “Are you going to marry that guy.”
“Theo.”
“I’m just asking. Hypothetically. I’m thinking about my future.”
“You’re fourteen.”
“And you’re thirty-six and you’ve been single for two weeks. We need to plan for the long term.”
I laughed. I almost choked on a chip.
“Ryker and I are not even dating. We are friends. We are coworkers. Sort of.”
“He looks at you like he’s already married you in his head.”
“Theo.”
“What. I’m observant. You said I was the bravest person you knew.”
I shook my head.
“I’m not ready to think about that.”
“Okay.”
He chewed.
“But for the record,” he said, “I voted yes.”
I looked at him. He looked at his taco.
“I just want you to know.”
I reached across the table and ruffled his hair. He pretended to hate it. He did not push my hand away.