“I didn’t say you were intruding,” I reply. “And you got the house?” Roxanne hadn’t told me about it, but Lauren had—they’d required proof of steady income.
Her mouth opens. Closes. She looks caught between politeness and panic. She nods.
“Can we please eat breakfast with The Bear?” Andi tugs at her mother’s sleeve, bouncing slightly. “Please, Mommy? Please? I’m so hungry.”
I watch Roxy’s features soften, her instinct to care trumping her instinct to flee. It feels like something is breaking open in my chest—I don’t know what. It makes me feel dizzy and off balance. I steady myself against the counter.
She nods, still pink-cheeked. “Okay. Breakfast.”
Dima clears his throat, eager to escape before more damage occurs. “Shef, permission to?—”
“You’re dismissed,” I say, and he scurries out like a man escaping a firing squad.
The moment he’s gone, I glance down at Andi again. “Why does he call you chef?” she asks, oblivious to the tension swirling around her. “Do you cook?”
“I don’t,” I admit. “I’m not a very good cook. ‘Shef’means ‘boss’ in my language. Do you like honey cake?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. “What isthat?”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “I’ll show you. Come on.” I turn to go downstairs, to the small dining area and patio that overlooks the back of my property. A small hand slips into mine, and I stagger, looking down.
Andi stares back up at me. She tugs. “Cake!”
We start forward again, together this time, and I hear Roxanne’s low heels click behind us uncertainly. Andi practically skips down the stairs, earning a chuckle from me. When I glance back, Roxanne’s eyes are wide.
At the little table, Andi happily grabs a muffin, turns up her nose at a boiled egg, and begrudgingly eats some fruit when Roxy gives her alook.Then, the big reveal—I pull the cover off of the many-layered honey cake. She stares in awe.
“How about,” I say, “you take a piece to Dima? He loves it.”
She squeals. “Yes! Can I? Really?”
“Of course.”
Roxy’s hand tightens slightly on her daughter’s shoulder. For the first time, her anxiety seems to lessen—not vanish, but ease like a tight muscle finally unclenching.
“Okay,” she says to Andi. “One piece. Big manners. And say thank you.”
Andi kisses Roxanne gently on the cheek and then dashes off down the hallway with enough force to nearly topple herself.
Her footsteps fade.
Leaving me alone with Roxy for the first time in a week.
She doesn’t move. Neither do I. The air stretches tight between us. Not quite awkward. Something more complicated—something alive.
I study her.
She’s dressed casually—sweater, jeans, hair pulled into a loose braid that shows the soft line of her neck. There’s exhaustion in her eyes, but there’s fire too. And something like wariness.
“You have a daughter,” I say quietly, remembering the paperwork when she was hired—Andi.I thought she’d had a son.
She nods. “Yes.”
“Her father?”
Her arms cross. “Not in the picture. Never has been. And we don’t need him.”
The bitterness under those words cuts deeper than I expect. My jaw tightens. “Good. Because if he ever shows up, he’ll regret ever looking away from you two.”
