June looked away and pulled out her phone.
She snapped a photo of Lila instead—mid-splash, water droplets catching the sunlight, her face transformed by joy—and texted it to Melissa.
Pool day. She’s turning into quite the swimmer.
The response came twenty minutes later.
She looks happy. Thank you for sending this.
Then, a moment later:I miss you both.
June stared at the words, her chest tight with something she couldn’t name.I miss you too,she typed back. Then deleted it. Typed it again. Deleted it again.
Finally:We miss you too. Good luck with your meetings.
Professional. Safe. Nothing that could be screenshot and shared, nothing that revealed too much.
This is what being a secret feels like,she thought.Measuring every word. Never saying what you mean.
She put her phone away and went to join Lila in the water, and was halfway there when a woman fell into step beside her—another pool parent, friendly, a toddler balanced on her hip.
“Is that your little one? In the green swimsuit?”
“She’s not mine,” June said. “I’m her nanny.”
“Oh, how fun! Summer job?”
“Something like that.” June smiled, kept walking.
“Her parents must love having someone so young and energetic—my sitter is sixty-two and wonderful but she will not get in the pool.” The woman laughed. “Is her mom here today?”
“She’s in Salem. Work thing.”
“Oh, politics stuff? I thought I recognized the name when you signed in—Brandt, right? Senator Brandt’s daughter?”
“That’s right.” June’s voice came out perfectly even. “I should get back to her.”
She waded into the shallow end and let the cold water close around her ankles and didn’t think about the wordnannyand how completely, accurately it described her. The thing she was. The thing she would always be, to anyone looking from the outside. She watched Lila surface from an underwater attempt, gasping and grinning, and made herself grin back.
That night, Melissa called at eight.
“Mom!” Lila grabbed the phone from June’s hand, her face lighting up. “We went swimming today, and I practiced my backstroke, and Miss Hollis said I’m getting really good, and then we got ice cream on the way home—strawberry with sprinkles—and tomorrow we’re going to the library because my books are due.”
June listened to Lila’s chatter, watching the way her whole body seemed to relax at the sound of her mother’s voice. Whatever complicated feelings June had about Melissa—about their relationship, about what they were doing—this part was simple. Lila needed her mother. And Melissa, for all her workaholic tendencies, needed Lila too.
After ten minutes, Lila handed the phone back. “Mom wants to talk to you.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Go brush your teeth—I’ll be up to read in a few minutes.”
Lila scampered off, and June raised the phone to her ear. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Melissa’s voice was tired, rough around the edges. “Thank you for keeping her busy. She sounds happy.”
“She is happy. She also misses you.”
“I know. I could hear it in her voice.” A pause. “I hate being away.”
“I know you do.”
