I nod once.
Her voice is careful. “Is that… good?”
I force myself to look at her.
“It’s good,” I say.
And then she smiles. Big and bright and happy.
We finish packing and head downstairs with the rest of the team. The bus ride back blurs into noise and exhaustion. Guys talk. Sleep. Scroll on their phones. Someone plays music too loud.
Talia sits beside me.
At some point our knees touch.
Neither of us moves away.
Later, she falls asleep against the window, and I do something I don’t even think about.
I angle my shoulder closer so her head has something to lean.
By the time we pull into the driveway, I’m actually looking forward to it being just the two of us again.
I carry her suitcase inside without asking. She follows with her tote bag, looking around like she’s checking that everything is still the same.
It is.
I’m halfway up the stairs when my phone rings.
Daniel.
My stomach tightens immediately.
I answer with a low, “Yeah.”
“Tough weekend?” Daniel asks.
“You have no idea,” I mutter, stepping into the hallway so Talia won’t hear everything.
Daniel doesn’t waste time. “I need to flag something for you.”
“Go ahead,” I say, already bracing.
“Your marriage certificate,” he says. “It’s a record.”
I frown. “Yeah. I know.”
“It could become public,” he continues, “if anyone goes looking.”
My chest goes tight.
“What do you mean, public?”
“It’s not like it’s posted on a billboard,” Daniel says, patient. “But records can be accessed. Media outlets, bloggers, anyone with a reason to dig. Especially if they catch wind of anything.”
My jaw clenches.
Of course they would.
