The rest of Christmas Eve was awkward—but different.
Marta asked Will genuine questions about his studies and dreams. Farlow listened instead of calculating his value like a stock portfolio.
Later that night, after Eddy’s parents had gone to bed, Will found me standing on the deck overlooking the ocean.
“You okay, Dad?” he asked.
“I should be asking you that.”
He smiled the same smile he had as a child.
“They messed up. They know it. And they’re trying to fix it.”
“You think they will?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But Eddy’s worth finding out.”
I hugged him tightly.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For protecting me.”
“I’d do it a thousand times over,” I replied. “That’s what fathers do.”
Will and Eddy are getting married next summer.
It will be a small ceremony at a beautiful venue. Marta and Farlow will be there.
They’re not perfect—but they’re trying.
Last month they apologized again during a family dinner. Marta cried as she admitted wealth had blinded her. Farlow shook my hand and said something I’ll never forget.
“Thank you for raising a son worth knowing.”
I recently bought a small house next door to Will and Eddy’s brownstone so I can stay close.
Someday, when they have children, I’ll watch them play in the yard. I’ll watch my son become the father I tried to be. And I’ll see Eddy’s parents visiting—not because of money or status, but because they truly care.
All of this taught me one important lesson.
