Jenna giggles and takes a croissant.
We all eat in a very uncomfortable manner. Mira tries to talk to Livy, but she couldn’t care less. Well, that’s what you get when you neglect your own child. Then I check the clock.
“Livy, you need to get dressed, we have to go soon.”
“Oh, yes. Bye, Mom.” Livy seizes the opportunity for escape, grabbing another croissant and a handful of berries beforescurrying out of the kitchen. I watch her go, then turn back to Mira.
“Why are you really here?” I ask.
Mira’s fake smile doesn’t falter even a bit. “Can’t a mother bring breakfast for her child?”
“A mother who’s shown up for exactly two dance events since kindergarten and ‘forgot’ the last three scheduled visitations? That mother?”
“I’ve been busy with work,” she says, her voice hardening slightly. “Not all of us can adjust our schedules around a child.”
“That’s exactly what parents do,” Colton says. “And please, your work? You can fool your attorney but not me.”
“You have a team of people helping you—coaches who reschedule, managers who make arrangements. Don’t pretend you’re doing this all on your own.”
“I make it work,” he insists. “I show up.”
“As fascinating as this discussion is,” Jenna chimes in. “Perhaps it should happen at another time. Preferably with legal representation present.”
Without looking at Jenna even once, Mira turns to me, perfectly shaped eyebrows arched. “Well, I wasn’t aware Colton needed his lawyer for a family breakfast.”
Jenna sighs. “I’m just suggesting that any discussion about parenting schedules or obligations might be better suited for a more formal setting.”
“Oh, I’m not here to discuss anything legal,” Mira says with a wave of her hand. “Just bringing breakfast for my daughter, like I’m allowed to. And maybe I’m a little interested in the life of ournewly-weds.”
“Turn on the TV and watch some reality then,” I snap.
This time Mira fixates on Jenna. “We all know this wedding is a ruse, and just because he fucks you, that doesn’t mean thathe’ll keep you and how is this heartbreak any better for Livy, huh?”
“There’s no ruse,” I say, standing up. “And we need to go. So, it’s time to leave, Mira.”
“I will get my daughter back.”
“That’s not happening.”
“You can’t prevent me from getting my daughter back.”
“Watch me.”
Jenna stands up too. “Ms. Kirillov, as my husband’s counsel, I advise against further conversation without your attorney present.”
“He was my husband first,” she says. “And I’m not intimidated by legal jargon before my morning coffee.” She turns back to me. “I’ll have my lawyer call your...lawyer.” She fucking air-quotes the word “lawyer.”
Jenna’s professional mask slips for a moment. “If you’re insinuating something improper, I suggest you consider the legal definition of defamation.”
“I’m not insinuating anything,” she says with faux innocence. “Just making an observation.”
“Mira,” I say. “Leave.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine. I’ll say goodbye to Livy.”
Before I can stop her, Mira flips on the camera and dashes around, capturing every corner of the house as she films. I trail behind her, arms crossed, watching her document the bathroom, the guest room, the bedroom—just as I expected.
“She won’t find a thing,” Jenna whispers to me.
