“Always.”
“Are you and Mom… like Mom and Dad used to be?”
June’s hands stilled on the bowl of batter. She turned slowly, giving herself time to think. Lila was watching her with those too-old eyes, her expression curious rather than troubled.
“What makes you ask that?”
“I saw you kiss last night.”
June cocked her head to the side. “Little miss Lila, were you up after bedtime?”
“I just needed to go to the bathroom,” Lila said, a note of steel in her voice that said she wasn’t going to get chastised for this. “And I heard you and Mom talk, so I thought… and I saw you kissing.” Lila tilted her head. “And Mom smiles more. She smiles the way she used to smile at Daddy, except different.”
June set down the whisk and came around the island, crouching so she was at Lila’s eye level. “You’re very observant, you know that?”
“I know.”
“Yes,” June said carefully. “Your mom and I are… together. Like she and your dad used to be. Is that okay with you?”
Lila’s brow furrowed, as if the question confused her. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“Some kids might feel weird about it. About their parent being with someone new.”
“But you’re not new. You’ve been here all summer.” Lila considered this for a moment. “And you make Mom happy. And you make good pancakes. And you know more otter facts than anyone except me.”
June felt her throat tighten. “So you’re okay with it?”
“I already said I was.” Lila’s tone suggested that June was being unnecessarily slow. “Can you make the pancakes now? I’m hungry.”
June laughed and hugged Lila tight. “Yeah, sweetheart. I can make the pancakes now.”
The morning passed in comfortable domesticity. Breakfast, then dishes, then Lila’s request to work in the garden before it got too hot. Melissa joined them after her shower, coffee in hand, watching from the porch while June and Lila inspected the sunflowers.
They had all bloomed.
June stopped when she saw them. They’d grown taller than June. Their heads were heavy and golden, tipping in the morning breeze.
“They’re beautiful,” Lila said, grinning and pointing to the tallest bloom. “And it’s got seeds, so we can use those and grow new sunflowers next year.”
“The circle of life,” Melissa said, smiling from the porch.
Lila grinned. “Like in The Lion King.”
“Exactly like that.”
June’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen—another unknown number, the fifth this week.
She declined the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket.
“Reporters again?” Melissa asked quietly.
“Probably. I’ve stopped answering numbers I don’t recognize.”
The press interest had spiked after Melissa’s speech at the hearing, then subsided as another story took over, then increased again as that story died down. For a few days, she’d gotten calls constantly: journalists wanting her side of the story, tabloid writers fishing for scandal, even a few podcast producers asking if she’d be interested in telling her truth.
She’d said no to all of them. Her truth wasn’t for public consumption. It was here, in this garden, with these people.
“I can have David send a statement,” Melissa offered. “Something official, asking for privacy—”
