“No,” she said. “I’m in love with her.”
“I want you. For you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to see you again, Trina. Please. Leave.”
The car went quiet. Trina looked through the windshield for a long moment. Then, she opened the door, got out, and walked away without looking back.
Lizanne drove home, her arms shaking as she thought back to their encounter. She didn’t want to, but Trina’s words echoed in her mind. She knew Jeremy didn’t want Daisy. That much was clear. She’d heard it from Rose. From her mom. From Quinn.
No. She wasn’t going to let Trina get in her head. She knew Rose. Knew her completely.
Didn’t she?
Chapter 28
Rose
Christmas had been small, just as they’d planned. There were still cameras, of course, but the usual army of production assistants was gone. It was just a two-man skeleton crew moving quietly through the shadows of the rooms, their lighting rigs tucked away into the corners to keep the house feeling like a home rather than a set. It felt less like a production and more like they were being watched by two very quiet ghosts.
In the glow of the tree, Quinn wore a paper crown, and Rose’s mother sat in her matching pajamas. Kayla had her feet tucked under her on the sofa, while Craig and Peter argued cheerfully about something inconsequential in the kitchen doorway.
The episode had aired on the twenty-seventh. The numbers had made Pat go quiet for a full thirty seconds before she whispered, “We’ve broken the platform.”
But Christmas itself—the parts the cameras didn’t catch—had been theirs. Rose’s mother had cooked enough for a small army. Lizanne had worn the matching pajamas without a word of protest, carrying herself with the committed dignity of someone who had decided to win at Christmas through sheer force of character. When Daisy, who had received a children’s telescope, finally found Andromeda at eleven-fifteen PM, her shriek was loud enough to wake the house, long after the crew had packed up and gone home.
It was the kind of day Rose used to build in her head when Daisy was a baby—back when the nights were long and the apartment walls were thin. She hadn’t pictured it in a movie star’s home, attended by an overzealous personal assistant, a Hollywood power agent and his husband, and a camera crew. But it was, in fact, even better. If only Jeremy wasn’t still lingering in the back of her mind. He’d written again, a Christmas card this time, promising he’d continue to try until she gave in.
She’d ripped the card up again. But she couldn’t deny that he was beginning to cloud this perfect world she’d built for herself.
***
By the time it was time to get back to their routine, Daisy had been out of school for two weeks. An arrangement she’d decided should be permanent and which she was determined to make a reality. She sat on the edge of her bed, arms crossed tightly over her yellow uniform. In her view, school was a redundant concept. She had everything she needed here: Biscuit, Professor, the playroom, the pool, and two adults who could answer her questions.
“I don’t want to go to school,” she declared for the 5thtime.
“Alfredo will be there,” Rose said, leaning against the doorframe.
Daisy didn’t move.
“And Priya. And Max with the dinosaur backpack,” Lizanne added.
“Max shares his snacks,” Daisy said. The admission came slowly.
“He does.”
“Alfredo knows every single word to the penguin song.”
“He does.”
Daisy looked at her shoes. “Fine. Will you both take me?”
“Of course,” Lizanne said and took Daisy’s hand, as if she’d always been in their lives.
The camera crew met them at the gate. Rose had been unmovable about Daisy and the lenses from day one. Two weeks ago, she’d negotiated a single compromise: Shots from behind only. The audience saw a yellow hat and a small backpack. No faces. It was a boundary Rose had drawn and meant to keep.
Rose saw the crowd before the car reached the curb. Dozens of them—phones up, long lenses out. A typical Monday morning school run in their new reality. Rose stepped out, opened the rear door, and crouched to fix Daisy’s hat, shielding her from the clicking shutters.
“Have a good day, Bug.”
