“A little,” she admitted.
“Good,” I said, opening my door.
The cool evening air slipped into the car as I stepped out and walked around to her side. When I opened her door, she hesitated for a moment before taking my hand and climbing out.
She smoothed down her dress, lifted her chin, and looked toward the house again.
“Okay,” she murmured.
“Okay,” I agreed.
And together we walked toward the front door.
Her gait was a little off as we crossed the path, the subtle shift in her stride not something anyone else would notice—but I did. At least I would be a constant reminder inside her.
Stella tilted her head up and pressed the doorbell.
A moment later the light flicked on behind the frosted glass. Shadows moved inside before the lock clicked and the door swung open.
Grace’s smile faltered the instant she saw me.
It was brief—just a flicker—but unmistakable. She recovered quickly, smoothing the expression back into place and pasting a polite smile across her face.
“Dr Lexington, I don’t know what Stella has been telling you, but we don’t need a mediator. I’m sorry she’s troubled you,” she said, narrowing her eyes briefly at Stella before slipping back into her hostess persona.“You’re welcome to join us for dinner, though.”
“I’m not here in any professional capacity, Mrs Byron,” I said smoothly.
Her mother reminded me of a woman desperately trying to recapture her youth. She was only a couple of years older than me, yet the tightness around her mouth and the hard set of her eyes made her seem far older. Bitterness had a way of doing that.
“What do you mea—”
“Are you going to let us in, mother?” Stella interjected.
Grace blinked.
“Oh, yes. Of course,” she said quickly, stepping aside.
Stella walked past her without hesitation. I followed a step behind as we entered the hallway, the polished floors gleaming beneath the warm lighting.
As we moved toward the dining room, furious whispering erupted behind us.
Tobias sounded confused—low, uncertain—but Grace’s voice cut through it sharply as she filled him in on the current turn of events.
I pulled out a chair for Stella and waited until she sat down before taking the seat beside her. The room smelled faintly of roasted vegetables and wine, though the tension in the air was stronger than either.
No one else joined us.
“You know, I figured out a solution for your period,” I drawled as she reached for the water jug.
Stella paused mid-pour, glancing sideways at me.
“What are you on about?” she asked nervously, filling her glass before taking a cautious sip.
“I mean if you were pregnant you wouldn’t have a period.”
I shut my eyes just as the water sprayed out of her mouth.
She coughed, scrambling for a napkin and wiping at her lips while glancing quickly toward the doorway.
