“I don’t know.” Her gaze softened as she grabbed a dishtowel. “But I know the kids deserve better than they’re getting.”
A pause stretched between them.
For several minutes, they washed dishes in silence. Luke washed, she dried and put away.
When they finished, she turned toward him. “Look, it’s been a long day, and I know you have other things to do. Even worse, I’m still not sure you got what you needed for your story.”
He shrugged, rocking his head from side to side. “Maybe I didn’t. But I had a good day.”
She grinned. “So did I. Tomorrow I’m profiling another door across town. You’re welcome to join me . . . if you still want the interview.”
Logic screamed that he should walk away. Take the information he had and work with it. Or that he should forget about this article and move on to another.
“I’ll be there.” His words surprised even him.
“Perfect.”
He pointed over his shoulder. “But you’re right. I should probably go now.”
“It is late.”
He pulled on his coat and hesitated near the doorway, unspoken words clawing at his chest. Part of him wanted to confess. But that would be stupid.
Before he could say anything, Amayah spoke.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, eyes kind, unguarded.
Luke nodded, unable to trust his voice.
Outside, the cold sliced through him.
For the first time in a very long while, regret followed him down the steps like a shadow.
What if Amayah wasn’t the one being two-faced? What if it was him?
Amayah’s house fell into the quiet following something meaningful—the echo of laughter and warmth still lingering in the air after the Crump kids had bundled into their coats and disappeared into the snowy night. Even Luke’s presence still hummed faintly against her walls, like a chord not fully resolved.
She stood in the living room, her gaze drifting toward the front door he’d walked out not ten minutes earlier. She hadn’t expected him to linger—hadn’t expected the way his eyes softened when she laughed, or the way something strangely pained flickered across his face when he’d said good night. Almost like regret.
Or guilt.
Had she imagined that?
She told herself she had.
Luke had been kind. Patient. Protective with the Crump kids in a way that tugged at her heart. And yet . . . something in him was held tight. Something he wasn’t saying.
Her stomach tightened with a quiet, unwelcome ache.
She knew the sensation too well.
Her ringing phone pulled her from her thoughts. It was Miranda.
She put the phone to her ear. Before she could even speak, Miranda did.
“Today was so magical, wasn’t it?” Miranda started. “You did great.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Amayah sat on the couch and pulled her blanket over her legs. This old house could be drafty at times.
