Melissa didn’t answer.
“Mel.”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Melissa turned toward the window, phone pressed to her ear. “The bill matters. What they write about me doesn’t change that.”
“It matters if it affects you. If it affects Lila.”
“Lila is fine. She’s having a wonderful summer.” The words came out sharper than intended. “She’s happy. The new nanny is… good with her. She even took Lila to the lake.”
“And you joined them,” Rachel said. “I almost choked on my coffee when you sent me that picture. I can’t believe you, Melissa Brandt, went to the lake to just relax and be.”
Melissa tried not to sound too affronted. “I know how to relax.”
“Really?”
“Rachel—”
“Well, you looked happy. You and Lila. You should do more of that.”
Melissa scrolled through her phone to the photo. June had taken it—Lila laughing in the water, sunlight catching the spray, Melissa watching her. She’d forwarded it to Rachel without thinking, a rare moment of impulse.
“It was a nice day,” she said carefully.
“Relax-days usually are. Or so I’ve been told.” A muffled knock on Rachel’s end. “I have to go. But you’re calling me tonight, understand? Actually calling, not texting. I want to hear your voice when you tell me you’re fine.”
“I’m fine.”
“Tonight, Melissa.”
The line went dead, and Melissa stood alone in her office, staring at the tablet still open on her desk. The headline glared up at her, black letters on white screen, each word a tiny wound.
Post-divorce struggles. Can she handle the pressure?
She thought about Michael, about the affair that had ended their marriage, about the careful press statements and the private devastation. When she blinked, the quiet devastation of Lila’s face flashed before her, when they’d told her daddy was moving away. She’d tried to hold everything together, to be strong enough for both of them, to prove that she didn’t need anyone.
Are you ready for that?
No. She wasn’t. But she didn’t have a choice.
The drive home took longer than usual. Traffic on the highway, an accident near the Redwood Hollow exit, Melissa’s thoughts spiraling in circles while she sat behind the wheel and watched the sun sink toward the horizon.
By the time she pulled into the driveway, it was nearly eight. The house was lit from within, warm light spilling through the kitchen windows, and she could see movement inside—probably June cleaning up from dinner.
They ate without me again.
Even in her head, it sounded sad. She pushed it away; it was just the way it was. June fed Lila, and the part where she kept one plate for Melissa’s unpredictable returns was really outside of the scope of their arrangement. June was the nanny; she wasn’t some personal assistant to Melissa. There was no requirement for June to cook for her, or take care of her in any other way.
But tonight, sitting in her car in the gathering dark, Melissa felt the weight of all those missed dinners pressing down on her.
She went inside.
The house was quiet. Lila must already be in bed—it was past her bedtime, and June was strict about the schedule. Melissa set her bag on the entry table and moved toward the kitchen.
There, she found June.
She was standing at the sink, washing dishes, her back to the doorway. Her hair was loose tonight, falling past her shoulders in soft waves, and she was humming something Melissa didn’t recognize.
Melissa stood in the doorway for a moment, watching.
