But he was still standing in the doorway, and to leave she would have to pass him, and passing him would mean coming close, and coming close was exactly what she had been avoiding for a week.
“Mel.”
Her name in his voice stopped her more effectively than any physical barrier could have.
“Don’t,” she said, not turning to face him.
“Please.”
“I’m not going to do anything. I’m not going to say anything inappropriate. I just…” He paused, and she heard the raw honesty in his voice when he continued. “I need you to know that what you do for them matters. What you did tonight, sitting with her, holding her, promising to stay. That matters more than you can possibly understand.”
She did turn then, because she could not help herself. He was looking at her with such intensity, such desperate sincerity, that it made her chest ache.
“It’s my job,” she said.
“It’s not your job to cherish them. It’s not your job to hold them through nightmares and sing lullabies and promise them things that are beyond any governess’s power to guarantee. That’s not a job. That’s a choice.”
“I don’t have a choice.” The words came out more honestly than she intended.
“I cherish them deeply. I couldn’t stop if I tried.”
“I know.” His voice was soft.
“I watch you with them every day, and I know.”
The kitchen felt smaller suddenly, the candlelight creating a circle of warmth that contained only the two of them. The milkwas cooling in her hands. The house was silent around them. And Mel felt, with terrible clarity, all the things she could not allow herself to feel.
“I should go,” she said. “Viola might wake again.”
“Of course.”
She moved toward the door, toward him, and he stepped aside to let her pass. But as she reached the threshold, as she was about to escape into the corridor and the safety of distance, she heard a small sound behind her.
She turned.
Viola was standing at the bottom of the stairs, wrapped in her blanket, her eyes still glazed with sleep and lingering fear. She must have woken when Mel left and followed her down, seeking the comfort she had been promised.
“Miss Grace?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I had another dream.”
Mel set down the milk and crossed to her, kneeling so they were at eye level.
“It’s all right. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She gathered Viola into her arms and lifted her, the child’s slight weight settling against her chest with perfect trust. Viola’s arms wrapped around her neck, her face buried against Mel’sshoulder, her body slowly relaxing as the contact provided the reassurance she needed.
When Mel turned back toward the kitchen, Rhys was still standing in the doorway. But his expression had changed. He was looking at her with something that went beyond admiration, beyond gratitude, beyond any emotion she knew how to name.
He was looking at her as though she were the answer to a question he had been asking his whole life.
She moved past him, carrying Viola, and he fell into step beside her without speaking. They climbed the stairs together, their footsteps synchronised in the darkness, and when they reached the nursery door, he stopped.
“She can sleep in my room tonight,” Mel said quietly.
“She’ll feel safer.”
“Thank you.”
