That laugh was definitely Mila’s.
Bianca dragged herself out of bed and stumbled towardthe bathroom, flicking on the light. Her reflection stared back at her—mascara smudged, eyes puffy, hair matted on one side. Her gaze dropped lower, tracing the lines of her body. She looked thinner … slimmer in places she hadn’t noticed before. She touched her neck gently. Her lymph nodes felt a little swollen again, just like they had before she’d left New Orleans. That, along with the recent night sweats and fatigue had prompted her to see her oncologist before this trip to Napa—for tests, just to rule out any issues. She told herself it was nothing. It was just a routine checkup—a precaution. But the what-ifs crept in anyway. She’d been cancer-free for some time, but in the quiet corners of her mind, she knew it carried with it the potential for return.
She grimaced and reached for the faucet. And now, with cold water on her face and a toothbrush inside her mouth, she needed to look better than she felt.
Downstairs, Zoe, Mila, and Remi were gathered around the island laughing and talking. The warmth of their voices drifted upward, and for a moment it felt like a party she hadn’t been invited to. She leaned against the banister, listening. Her daughter’s laughter was easy and effortless, like she belonged in a way that Bianca didn’t. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. It was more like grief for a closeness she hadn’t earned with her.
“Oh, there she is.” Zoe spotted Bianca first, hopped down from the stool, and hugged her. “Good morning, Aunt B.”
Mila was slow to greet her—gave her a weak hug, almost pitiful. “Morning, Mom.”
Bianca studied her daughter carefully. The front of her dark hair streaked with subtle highlights—likely a summer experiment. But that toboggan still covered the rest of her head like it did when they’d video-chatted a few days ago.A new fad?Bianca wasn’t sure. And she looked slimmer than usual, almost too much so, as if food had escaped her forweeks. Her tight, distressed jeans that usually clung to generous hips—like her mother’s—weren’t so tight. Though a cropped vintage graphic tee revealed a sliver of her toned midriff. Her rich, caramel skin had taken on a golden glow, kissed by the sun, but beneath it all, something about her seemed … off.
“Good morning to both of you! We weren’t expecting you until Friday.”
“I didn’t go to Maine. Daddy understood that I needed to come here for Aunt Remi.” Mila gave Remi a sweet smile. “I’ll join him and Jen in a few weeks, I guess.”
Bianca cringed when she heard Jen’s name. Jealousy rushed through her. “That was big of him.”
She remembered the first time she’d ever heard the woman’s name, or even knew she existed. It had rocked her to her core. She’d have been better off not knowing that someone new was quickly becoming a permanent fixture in Harry’s life.
Mila ignored her sarcasm. “You slept in this morning, I see.”
“Had a late night, honey.” Bianca walked over and stroked Mila’s brown tresses, the part extending from the toboggan. “What’s with this winter hat? You should let your hair breathe. It’s summertime.”
“My hair is fine, Mom.”
“I see.” Bianca didn’t press.
Mila leaned against the island, arms crossed. “Aunt Remi said you guys had a night out. Was it worth the headache?”
Bianca raised an eyebrow, brushing past the judgment in her tone. “Depends on who you ask.”
Remi stepped in with a grin. “She was the life of the party, as usual. You know your mother.”
“Idoknow my mother,” Mila mumbled, turning to pour herself some orange juice.
Bianca watched her daughter’s back as she moved. There was distance in every gesture, every word. It wasn’t just about last night—it hadn’t been for a long time.
Bianca leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “So … what’s the real reason for the early arrival?”
Mila sipped her juice, then set down the glass with a soft clink. “Why does there have to be another reason?”
“I don’t know,” Bianca said, trying to keep her tone light. “You were just so excited about going to Maine with your father and …what’s her name.”
Remi shot her a look—part warning, part curiosity—but said nothing.
Mila rolled her eyes. “I wanted to be here, for Aunt Remi. That’s it. That’s the reason.”
Bianca flinched inwardly. There was no mention of her in Mila’s wanting-to-be-there for other people. “Right. Of course. Well, it’s good to have you here.” She paused, glancing at Mila’s face for some softening. There was none.
Zoe, sensing the shift in energy, attempted a distraction. “Can we go to the flea market later, Aunt B? I want to find some vinyl so I can break in this new record player I got for Christmas.”
Bianca smiled at her, grateful. “Vinyl? Oh, you’re speaking my language now. You should see my record collection the next time you’re in Louisiana.”
“I would love to.”
“Of course we can check out a flea market, sweetheart. We’ll go after breakfast,” Bianca answered. “Remi, you coming?”