“It’s fine. They’ll get bored eventually.” June knelt down to help Lila check the tomato plants. “Besides, ignoring them feels kind of satisfying. Like I’m in control of the narrative for once.”
Melissa’s expression softened. “You are in control. Whatever happens with the press, however people react… you get to decide what this means to you.”
“I know.” June smiled up at her. “I’m starting to believe it.”
Rachel arrived in the early afternoon, while Melissa was at the office for a few hours of catch-up work. She swept into the kitchen with her usual brisk energy, wearing jeans and a soft sweater, her dark curls loose around her shoulders, carrying a paper bag.
“I come bearing gifts,” Rachel announced, setting the paper bag on the counter to reveal its content: glazed, delicious-looking donuts. “And also nosiness. Fair warning.”
“Noted.” June wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Lila’s in her room reading. Want to sit on the porch?”
“God, yes. I’ve been in the hospital since six a.m. I need fresh air and gossip, in that order. Non-hospital gossip, that is, because there’s plenty of drama going on at RH General.”
“Do I want to know?” June asked with a laugh.
“It involves heart transplants and previously-rivals-turned-lovers and all sorts of craziness. So, no.”
“You just want politician/nanny craziness instead.”
Rachel grinned. “That’s what I’m here for.”
They settled into the chairs on the back porch, and they each grabbed a donut—June one with chocolate, Rachel one with just white glaze—the afternoon stretching warm and lazy ahead of them.
“So,” Rachel said, calmer now. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.”
“For good?”
June swallowed a bite of her donut, considering the question. “I think so. We’re taking it slow, but… yeah. For good.”
Rachel studied her for a moment with an assessing look—the one that made her an excellent doctor and a slightly scary friend. “You look happy. Both of you. Happier than I’ve seen Melissa in years.”
“I feel happy. It’s a little scary, honestly.”
“Why scary?”
“Because I keep waiting for something to go wrong.” June picked at the remaining donut, pulling off a small piece. “I know that’s not fair. Melissa has done everything right since the hearing. But part of me is still braced for impact, you know? Like I can’t quite believe this is real.”
“That’s trauma talking. Your past, the way Melissa first handled the press—your nervous system learned that good things don’t last.” Rachel’s voice was gentle. “It’ll take time to unlearn that. But you will.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I am very sure. Because I know Mel, and I know she doesn’t do anything halfway. If she’s in, she’s in.” Rachel paused. “And because I saw the way she looked at you at that hearing. That wasn’t a woman hedging her bets. That was a woman burning her ships.”
June felt warmth spread through her chest. “She did kind of burn her ships, didn’t she?”
“Spectacularly. In front of the entire Oregon state legislature and approximately forty thousand C-SPAN viewers.” Rachel grinned. “It was very romantic. In a chaotic, politically inadvisable sort of way.”
June laughed. “That should be our tagline. ‘Chaotic and politically inadvisable: a love story.’”
“I’d read that book.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the sunflowers sway in the afternoon breeze, finishing their donuts. The garden was showing signs of late summer—tomatoes heavy on the vine, herbs going wild, everything lush and a little overgrown.
“Can I ask you something?” June said finally.
“Always.”
