"Fine." He didn't elaborate. "Ready to go?"
Simon was surprised to see Nathaniel, but recovered quickly, holding the door as we all climbed into the town car. Millie chattered the whole ride home, replaying every backstage moment in exhaustive detail.
"And then Sophie said my dress was pretty, and I said her dress was pretty too, and then we both said we were pretty, and then?—"
Nathaniel made appropriate responses, but I felt the tension radiating from him. Whatever James had said, it was still eating at him. I didn't ask. It wasn't my place.
But the awareness of his hidden stress was getting to me. I was getting far too attuned to his moods.
Back at the mansion, Millie was still riding her high. "I'm going to put my certificate on my desk!" She shot out of the car and up the front steps before Simon had fully stopped.
Nathaniel and I followed more slowly. In the foyer, he helped me out of my coat, his fingers brushing the nape of my neck for a fleeting second. A simple touch. Accidental. It shouldn't have felt so intimate.
"She was so happy you came," I said softly, turning to face him.
He was closer than I'd realized. Close enough that I caught his cologne, the woodsy scent I'd started associating with safety.
"I was happy to be there." His voice was low, meant only for me. "I should have been at every recital. Every soccer game. Every?—"
"You're here now." I didn't know why I interrupted. Maybe because the guilt in his voice made me feel bad for him. "That's what she'll remember."
His eyes searched my face. "You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Find the grace in things. Give people more credit than they deserve."
"Maybe you deserve more credit than you think."
The air thickened. The professional distance I'd been rebuilding felt insubstantial as cobwebs. I was fond of him. Terribly, inconveniently fond. And in his eyes, I saw the same dangerous recognition.
"Claire—"
"I should check on Millie," I said quickly, stepping back. "She's taking a while."
He blinked, the spell breaking. "Right. Of course."
I climbed the stairs, my heart hammering.Professional boundaries,I reminded myself.Strict. Unbreakable.
My head was in agreement, but my heart wasn't listening.
Millie's door was slightly ajar at the end of the hall. I was about to push it open when I heard Victoria's voice from inside, not her sharp social tone, but something lower. Colder.
"...such a pretty certificate for a pretty little performance. Did you have fun playing pretend family with your tutor?"
My blood went cold.
"It wasn't pretend." Millie's voice was small, confused. "Miss Claire and Daddy came."
"Oh, sweetheart." A soft, cruel laugh. "Claire came because your daddypaysher. It's her job. Do you understand? She doesn't actually care about you."
"That's not true?—"
"And your daddy?" Victoria's voice dripped with false sympathy. "He comes when he has nothing more important. But that's not love. That's guilt."
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"You need to understand how the world works, Millie. People like Claire don't stay. They use you to get what they want, and then they leave." A pause. "Just like your mother left."
