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I studied her while she studied her work. She looked good. Her makeup was done, she seemed rested. She seemed happy. The light scent of her rose perfume reached my nose like a gentle whisper telling me to relax.

She snapped her fingers and turned back to me. “Oh!” she said, like she just remembered something. “Come with me to the kitchen. I got you something.”

She grabbed me by the hands and walked backward a few steps before turning to lead me through the house. I followed in the wake of her perfume, peering around. The home was enormous. And she was right, it was white—and stark and slate and cold. It was all very… surgical.

“This is old money,” she whispered, nodding at an expensive-looking vase on a pedestal. “It just feels different, right? Sort of regal.”

“He lives here alone?” I asked.

“I think so. Well, Maria has a room somewhere, but that’s it.” She looked over her shoulder and gave me a wry look. “Did I tell you what he does? A surgeon.”

“Uh, I know. I work with him at Royaume.”

Mom stopped to gawk at me. “What?” She paused for a dramatic moment. Then she burst into sparkling laughter. “Well, I guess it’s nice I’m showing him a good time then!”

“Mom, I have to talk to you about that—”

“About what?” She cocked her head.

“I just… he’s our landlord and Maddy and I have to work with him and—”

“And?” She blinked at me innocently.

“It just… it feels like a conflict of interest for you to get involved with him.” I hoped it came out diplomatically. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but I also needed her to understand the stakes.

Her expression turned amused. “Emma, we are two grown adults. What does it even have to do with you?”

I licked my lips. “Things don’t tend to end well with you and men. I can’t afford for this to implode. Please.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sweetheart, I know that in the past I’ve picked some winners. Believe me, I know. But this guy is different. He’s good at his job, he’s got all these awards everywhere. He owns things, no criminal record, he’s sweet, and he goes to therapy—”

“He goes to therapy?”

“Yeah. He’s really focused on self-improvement. Our therapists sound a lot alike actually.”

I blinked at her. “You have a therapist?”

“Yeah, I told you.”

I shook my head. “No, you didn’t.”

“I’ve been going for like two years now. It’s virtual.”

I shifted on my feet. “Well… well what do they say?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Lots of stuff. She’s expensive as hell. Insurance won’t cover a dime. But I haven’t missed one session.”

I felt a weight on my chest lift. Therapy. Never, in my whole life, had she gone to therapy.

“Mom, that’s really great,” I said, relief in my voice.

“Baby, I am doing so well. I have never been this Zen. I’m in a really good place, you’d be so proud of me. And Neil? He likes me. I like him. We’re having fun. Nothing bad is going to happen, we’re just enjoying each other, I don’t want you to worry about it.”

I let out a breath. I still didn’t feel a hundred percent, but what else could I do? I couldn’t make her stop seeing him. All I could do was let her know my concerns and hope she’d behave.

“Okay,” I said. “I won’t worry.”

“Good.” She turned and started walking again.