“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask. “Water? Tea?”
She turns to face me, a polite smile playing at her lips. “Tea would be nice, thank you.”
“Milk? Sugar?” I ask, already half turned toward the kitchen.
“Just a splash of milk,” she says.
I nod, walking through the house. The moment the kettle’s on, I brace my palms against the counter, bowing my head for a second.Breathe. Get it together. It’s just tea. Just a womanstanding in my living room who somehow makes it feel smaller and fuller at the same time.
By the time I return with two steaming mugs in hand, she’s drifted toward the mantle, fingers grazing the edge of a framed photo. Her head tilts slightly as she studies it.
“She was the most beautiful baby,” she says softly, eyes fixed on a photo of Isla with chubby cheeks and a sun hat two sizes too big. “She has your eyes. It’s one of the first things I noticed.”
I hand her the mug, and she takes it gently, both hands cradling the ceramic. Her fingers absently trace the handle.
I clear my throat, just to break the silence. “She was a handful. Even back then. Hated naps. Loved throwing food.”
Her eyes lift to mine, and her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile before she steps away from the mantle, lowering herself onto the couch.
I hesitate long enough for her to notice. Then I follow, easing down onto the opposite end, leaving more space than necessary between us.
“I don’t bite, you know,” she teases. “I’m not really sure what’s going on withyoutoday, but I can say with certainty, that won’t be a problem.”
That pulls a laugh out of me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The couch creaks softly as she shifts, curling one leg beneath her. She’s still watching me, but she doesn’t press. She just sips her tea and waits.
It’s time for me to say something. The words are right there, but they get stuck somewhere between my lungs and my throat. Once they’re out, there’s no taking them back.
“Look, I…” I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “I’m not good at talking. Or any of it, really.”
She takes another slow sip of her tea, watching me over therim. “Mmhmm,” she hums, finally lowering the mug. “You’ve mentioned that.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Aye. I don’t know where to start.”
She leans forward slightly, the movement bringing her a breath closer, and a hint of vanilla reaches me, mingling with the scent of tea. “Start with what you’re thinking right now.”
I study her for a moment, caught between wanting to bolt and wanting to stay. I reallydon’tknow how to do this.
“I think I’m going to mess this up,” I admit, the words rough. “Whatever this is.”
She nods slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. “And what do you thinkthisis?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibilities I’m not sure I’m ready to face. “I don’t know,” I admit. I’m choosing to be honest, even if it makes me sound like a coward. “I just know it feels different when you’re around.”
Her head tilts, just a little. “Different how?”
I exhale slowly. “When you’re with us, me and Isla…things feel lighter. Like maybe everything isn’t such a mess.”
Her brows lift slightly, not in shock, more like she didn’t expect me to say it out loud. Hell, I didn’t expect me to say it out loud.
“I’ve spent so long keeping our world small,” I continue, the words coming easier now. “Just me and Isla against everything else. It made sense to keep it that way.” I meet her gaze, allowing myself to really look at her. “Now I’m starting to think that maybe we’re missing something. That maybe having people like you in our lives wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
Her smile spreads slowly, lighting up her face as she sets her mug down on the coffee table. “I’d like that,” she says softly. “Being in your lives, I mean.”
My hand rests on the couch between us, and I’m acutelyaware of how close her fingers are to mine. Just a few inches of worn leather separating us.
“You know,” she continues, “when I first met you, I thought you were just…” She pauses, searching for the right word.
