What I’ve decided about Ed is that he’s probably some kind of rival or adjacent problem that Dario has decided to absorb, and clearing my debt is part of how that plays out between them. Why else would he have jumped into this to help me out? He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who is desperate for lovers, and he’s not the type to believe in charity.
Which means I must be revenge with a side of sex.
Or, he’s using me in some other way. That’s how connected people work. They don’t do anything out of the kindness of their hearts. Which is fine. I don’t mind being used. I don’t need thefull explanation. I need the outcome, and the outcome is Opal’s health.
Opal goes back to school, which is a relief in some ways and a problem in others. Alanda isn’t needed for daily care anymore, and the last morning is harder than I expected. Opal spends breakfast drawing her a goodbye picture—Alanda’s face, complete with the reading glasses that always migrate into her curly hair, remarkably accurate for a five-year-old.
Alanda looks at it for a long time. “Baby girl, you have the best heart of anyone I’ve met.”
Opal grins, and Alanda pulls her into a big hug.
“I’m gonna miss you, munchkin. But I’ll be around when I can be. Dr. Spinelli wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
“We’ll miss you too, Alanda,” I tell her.
I hate that Opal has to say goodbye to another person in her life. She’s had to grow up so fast, and every time we say goodbye, I think it ages her.
Or maybe it’s just me.
The apartment feels different without her during the day. Quieter. But Opal is healthy. That’s the whole point of any of this. When she starts school, I have to adjust my work schedule, but that’s the only real big change on my end of it. Thankfully, my supervisor, Reggie, likes me, so the adjustment isn’t a big deal.
Opal goes to school and comes home with drawings and small dramas about who said what at lunch. She’s giddy, and her color is good, and her voice is back at full volume, and she doesn’t press her hand to her throat anymore when she swallows.
That’s what matters. Opal is healthy, and it’s because of Dario, and I’m utterly grateful.
Reggie finds me at the coffee station at two fifteen on a Tuesday.
I hear him before I see him—the specific footfall I’ve been cataloging for weeks, the one that always arrives a beat too late after I’ve entered a space, the one that means he followed me. While I’m grateful that he changed my schedule at the drop of a hat, I don’t enjoy his attention.
He’s the kind of man who knows he’ll never get anywhere in life beyond where he’s already reached, and he’s bitter about it.
I don’t like talking to him one-on-one, so I’ll wrap things up in here in a hurry. I tell myself it’s a break room with a door that stays open, and there are forty people on this floor.
But he closes the door behind him.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey, Reggie.” I keep my back to him, reaching for the sugar I don’t actually take, buying myself the second I need to assess the space. Counter behind me. Door behind him. Twelve feet between us. I’m fine.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says.
“What are you talking about? I’ve been working.” And I’m on break right now, so leave me alone.
“Rhonda says you put in for the supervisor position.”
I turn around because I won’t have this conversation with my back to him. That’s the first mistake—he reads it as an invitation, steps closer, and closes the distance from twelve feet to six without appearing to move deliberately.
“I did. Is there something you needed, Reggie?”
“Just checking in.” He smiles. “We used to talk more, and if you’re gonna be a supervisor, then we’re on the same level. That opens up all kinds of possibilities.”
“I’m too busy for a chat. The Harmon account?—”
“You filed reports.” His voice doesn’t change. That’s the thing about Reggie—his voice never changes. It stays warm, reasonable, and slightly amused, no matter what he’s saying. “Two of them. HR told me.”
My stomach drops. I keep my face still. “HR is supposed to keep things private.”
“Right.” He takes another step. Four feet now. “The thing is, Lena—and I say this as someone who actually likes you, who’s always liked you—those reports make things harder for both of us. They put things on record that didn’t need to be on record. You know what I mean?”
