“Nice to meet you, Brian. I’m Austin.” I stepped forward, calm and steady, my voice even. “She’s in good hands. That’s what matters, right?”
I hadn’t mentioned whichsheI was referring to, but I’d let that be open for his interpretation. Brian’s head tilted like he might say something else, but he must have had an ounce of self-preservation, because he held back.
Selene didn’t flinch. “Winnie’s backpack has everything she needs. I expect her home by six thirty Sunday night. Please do not be late again.”
Brian looked at Winnie and smiled. “Let’s go. Clock’s ticking.”
She glanced up at Selene. “Can we do movie night on Sunday when I’m back?”
Selene knelt, her arms around her daughter before she’d even finished asking. “Of course, my love. I will miss you every minute.”
They hugged again, and there was something about the way her hand lingered on her daughter’s shoulder that got to me, like if she let go too fast, something might unravel.
The car door slammed, the engine turned, and they disappeared down the street.
Selene stayed on the sidewalk, staring down the roadway, as they drove away. Her arms were wrapped around herself, like she was trying to stay inside her skin. Her eyes tracked the red taillights until they vanished behind the bend in the road.
I stepped up beside her, not touching. Just there.
“You okay?” I asked.
She let out a breath like she’d been holding it all day. “I hate it,” she said. “Watching her go. It sucks every time.”
I didn’t say anything, but just waited. The truth was still building behind her eyes.
“But”—she exhaled slowly—“it’s also a bit of a relief to just breathe for a second. Isn’t that awful of me?”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “That’s real. You work hard and it’s not wrong to take a break sometimes.”
Selene turned and looked at me. Really looked. Her eyes were tired, but there was something behind them—like the part of her that had been locked up for a long time was stirring and shifting beneath the surface. It wasn’t quite ready to come out, but a part of her was close to breaking free from the walls she’d built.
I took a step back, wanting to give her space to feel whatever she needed to feel. I cleared my throat. “How do you feel about someone else making dinner for a change?”
Her brow arched, suspicious. “Are you offering?”
“I’m not just pretty,” I said with a grin. “I can cook too.”
A smile bloomed on her face as her arms crossed. “Is that so?”
My chest tightened. “Yep. You can sit and I’ll feed you. There might even be wine involved.”
“Hmm ...” Selene nodded and walked up the porch steps. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no either.
She just turned and opened the door to her side of the duplex, and I followed her inside.
Selene moved through the house like she was still half waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She hadn’t taken off her shoes. Her arms stayed crossed, like some part of her was holding herself together with invisible thread. The thunk of the door closing behind us echoed louder than it should have, like it marked some line neither of us wanted to acknowledge just yet.
I didn’t say anything. Just toed off my boots, washed my hands at the sink, and started pulling open cabinets like I’d done it a hundred times. Because, in reality, I had. I had navigated her kitchen enough times that I knew where the olive oil was, where she kept her sharpest knife, and how she labeled her spice jars in neat, looping script.
Behind me, she hovered. I could feel the weight of her gaze—low, lingering, and curious in a way that made the skin at the back of my neck tighten.
“I don’t have much,” she said after a beat. “A few vegetables. Maybe some pasta.”
“I’m a bachelor. I’ve worked with less,” I said, turning to flash her a grin. “You’ve never seen what I can do with a sad zucchini and half a box of spaghetti.”
A breath of laughter escaped her. She leaned against the kitchen doorway, finally uncrossing her arms. “Is this your seduction technique? Feeding exhausted single mothers until they forget their morals?”
