Billie knew she should say no. She should dismiss her assistant and retreat into the solitude she’d always considered her armour. Instead, she gestured to the second glass on the oak unit to her right. “Pour yourself one.”
“Really?”
Billie looked up at Nina. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”
She poured a small amount and sat gingerly on the chair opposite Billie. After a few minutes, Nina crossed her legs and sighed. “You’ve been…different. For weeks now.”
Billie clenched her jaw. “I know.”
“Is it work? Is something going on with the business?”
“No, no. The business is doing just fine.”
Nina angled her head and searched Billie’s eyes. “Is it her?”
Billie’s eyes burned as she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
Another moment passed before Billie murmured, “Everything used to make sense.”
Nina watched her carefully, most likely weighing up her response. “It still can.”
“Right.” Billie scoffed. “That’s optimistic of you.”
“It’s not optimism. It’s just…truth. You built everything in this place from the ground up. This shop works because of you.Iwork the way I do because of you.” Nina paused. “You’re allowed to fall apart sometimes.”
Billie looked at her fully for the first time tonight, seeing the comfort in her expression. Nina cared about the shop, about the work, and yes, perhaps about Billie in ways that went unspoken butnotunnoticed.Thiswas her normal. Nina was…safe for her. And Billie found herself wanting to reach for that safety, because the alternative hurt too much.
She straightened in her chair, slipped her mask back into place, and reverted to the cool composure she had been accustomed to before Debra Allen had stepped into her life.
“Nina.”
“Y-yes?” Nina gazed back at her with a sweet smile on her lips.
“Your attitude recently has been unacceptable.”
Nina bowed her head. “I-I know. I’m sorry.”
“And tonight, you walked into my shop uninvited.”
Nina visibly swallowed. “I was worried. I thought someone had broken in.”
“I know. I understand why you came.” Billie set her empty glass aside and stood, approaching slowly. The old dynamic—clean, structured, andintoxicatinglycontrolled—slid back into place like a well-tailored blazer. “But you willnotcross that line again. You will not demand answers from me about my life. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Nina whispered.
Billie stepped closer. “Good.”
“Does this mean things are back to normal?”
Billie lifted a hand and cupped her jaw. Then, with an authority that made Nina’s breath hitch, she said, “Yes.”
“Thank you. I…I’m glad.”
Billie gave a single nod as Nina slid from her seat to her knees in front of her, her hand inching its way to Billie’s belt buckle. But something deep inside of her recoiled. Because it wasn’t relief she felt as she looked down at Nina, it was defeat. She hadn’t grown or made her life better; she’d simply chosen to claw her way back to the version of herself she’d built out of fear and habit, trying desperately to fit into a life that suddenly felt too tight and too small.
But for tonight, she would let her old world settle around her. It was easier than feeling everything she was trying not to feel.
