Melissa walked in looking like she’d been through a war. Her blazer was wrinkled, her hair escaping its twist, dark circles under her eyes visible even from across the room, the makeup she’d worn faded after so many hours. She was carrying her bag over one shoulder, her phone clutched in her hand, and she moved with the gait of someone running on empty.
Then she saw June, and she stopped.
They stared at each other across the beige expanse of the lobby. June saw Melissa’s throat move as she swallowed. Saw her fingers tighten on the strap of her bag. Saw something raw and hopeful and terrified in her expression, and recognized all three because she felt them too.
June stood.
Melissa crossed the lobby, stopping a few feet away—close enough to touch, but not touching. “You came.”
“I came.”
“I wasn’t sure you would. After everything.”
“Neither was I.” June picked up her cold tea, set it back down, not sure what to do with her hands. “Can we go upstairs? I don’t want to have this conversation in a hotel lobby.”
“Of course.”
They rode the elevator in silence, standing on opposite sides of the small space. June was acutely aware of Melissa’s presence; the familiar scent of her perfume, the sound of her breathing, the way she kept glancing over as if making sure June was still there.
Room 412 was a standard hotel room: king bed, desk, chair, generic art on the walls. Melissa dropped her bag by the door and turned to face June, her hands hanging awkwardly at her sides.
“Do you want to sit down?” Melissa asked. “I can order something from room service, or…”
“I don’t want room service.” June moved to the window, looking out at the lights of Salem below. “I want to understand what happened today. What changed.”
“Everything changed.” Melissa’s voice was quiet. “Nothing changed. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Try.”
A long pause. June heard Melissa sit down on the edge of the bed, heard the creak of the mattress.
“When you left,” Melissa said slowly, “I told myself I’d made the right choice. That I was protecting you, protecting Lila, protecting everything I’d worked for. I told myself that over and over, like if I said it enough times, it would become true.”
“And?”
“And it never did. The house was so quiet without you. Lila wouldn’t speak to me. I kept reaching for my phone to text you, and then remembering.” Melissa’s voice cracked. “I kept waking each morning, expecting you to be there, and you weren’t.”
June turned from the window. Melissa was sitting on the bed, shoulders hunched, looking smaller than June had ever seen her.
“Rachel came to see me last Saturday,” Melissa continued. “She told me I was punishing myself for wanting to be happy. That I’d spent my whole life proving I was strong enough to be alone, and maybe it was time to prove I was brave enough not to be.”
“That sounds like Rachel.”
“She was right. She’s usually right.” Melissa looked up, meeting June’s eyes. “But it wasn’t just what she said. It was Lila. I kept thinking about what I was teaching her—different this time, but still wrong. That love is something to hide, that being yourself is dangerous. I don’t want her to grow up like that. I don’t want to be the reason she learns to hide who she is.”
June crossed the room slowly, stopping in front of Melissa but not sitting down. “So you decided to come out in front of a legislative committee? That’s a hell of a first step.”
“It wasn’t planned. Not exactly.” Melissa almost smiled. “I knew I was going to say something. I just didn’t know what until Webb started talking about my domestic instability and I realized… I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t sit there and let them use you as a weapon against me. I couldn’t pretend you didn’t matter.”
“I watched you.” June’s voice was rough. “I watched you stand up there and tell the truth, and I—” She stopped, shook her head. “I didn’t expect that. I expected more deflection. More politics.”
“I know. I’m sorry. For the press conference, for all of it. You deserved better.”
“Yes. I did.”
The words hung between them, harsh but necessary. Melissa flinched but didn’t look away.
“I told you from the beginning what I needed,” June said. “I told you I didn’t want to be a secret or an experiment. And you promised—with your eyes, with your hands, with every kiss—you promised that I wasn’t. And then when it got hard, you broke that promise.”
