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Those old stories had haunted the news cycles for years. The murders were gruesome and methodical, enough to make anyone double-check every lock. Now another killer was here.
My chest tightened as unease turned into real fear. What if he came here?
Seth’s head turned toward the door when the bell rang. He remained calm, his big eyes blinking up at me. I forced myself to breathe and scooped him into my arms, holding him close against the sudden chill.
I opened the door to find Leanne holding a bottle of wine, a pink bakery box, and all the chaotic energy I had missed for months.
“Sam, I finally made it! The flight was long as hell, but I’m here. Let me see my godson.”
I managed a smile and hugged her tightly with one arm while holding Seth close with the other.
She held me tightly, surrounding me with the scent of Italian perfume and vanilla. For a moment, her presence brought the house back to life.
She pulled back and planted a kiss on my cheek. “God, you smell exactly like baby powder. It’s adorable.”
Before I could respond, she focused on Seth.
“There is my perfect little potato. Come to Godmommy Leanne.”
She scooped him into her arms, and he studied her beautiful face with solemn eyes before patting her cheek with one tiny hand.
“Oh my God, he’s perfect,” she cooed, gently bouncing him against her hip. “Look at you, little man. He has your smile, Sam, but that intensity belongs entirely to his father. He’s going to break hearts.”
We settled in the kitchen with glasses of wine between us while Seth played on his mat. He occasionally banged his rattle against the floor as though he expected it to surrender.
Leanne opened the bakery box and revealed an assortment of oversized cupcakes.
“I brought reinforcements. Red velvet belongs to you, you deserve it. Carbs, sugar and emotional support.”
She launched into stories from her latest modeling jobs across Europe. In Milan, a designer had changed her entire runway look minutes before the show began. In Paris, she spent twelve hours posing for a perfume campaign while someone continuously sprayed artificial mist into her face. In Barcelona, she attended an after-party where two actresses nearly fought over the same married man.
“The glamorous life,” she said, raising her glass. “People think it’s champagne and beautiful clothes. Most days, I’m half naked backstage while strangers pull at my hair and yell about lighting.”
“I saw the pictures from Milan. You looked incredible.”
“I nearly fell during that show.”
“You hid it well.”
“That’s why they pay me.”
Her grin widened before she continued telling me about a photographer who demanded sorrow from her eyes during a swimsuit campaign. I laughed, truly laughed, for the first time in ages. The sound surprised me as much as it delighted her.
“Tell me you brought pictures,” I said. “I need to live through you for a while.”
“I brought several rolls of film. Half of them should probably be destroyed before anyone else sees them.”
“Those are the ones I want.”
Spending the afternoon with her reminded me of our friendship before grief, marriage, and motherhood had changed everything. The wine eased some of the tension inside my chest, but Leanne continued watching me over the rim of her glass. Her smile gradually faded as her concern became more apparent.
“You look beautiful, Sam. You really do. Motherhood looks good on you, but you don’t seem like yourself anymore. What’s happening?”
“I’m still adjusting.”
“Please don’t give me the polite version.”
I traced the rim of my glass with my fingertip. “It’s… everything. Motherhood, losing Dad, moving to a new city, and Richard’s busy schedule. He is always traveling because there is always one more deal. Some days, I’m barely getting through.”
