“I can do that.” Mila reached for the head of lettuce and a mixing bowl, began slicing lettuce, cucumber, and tomatoes. She looked up at Bianca. “Mom, I know we talked to that victims’ advocate lady the other day … Kathleen. And she was really nice and so helpful, but—”
“But what, sweetie?” Bianca braced herself.
“I don’t think I want to start a case. I don’t want to file charges. I just want to forget it all happened.”
Bianca’s heart clenched. “You sure? You thought about it?”
“I have. Quite a bit,” Mila said quietly. “I just want to be okay. I don’t want to relive it over and over. I just … I just want peace, without all the drama of a case.”
Bianca swallowed hard. Her instincts were to protect, fight, to raise hell. But this wasn’t about her. It was about Mila.Herhealing.Herchoice.
Hesitantly she said, “if that’s what you want—”
“It is,” Mila said quickly, so sure of herself. “Maybe I can look at another school in the fall, like LSU or Xavier. That way I can be closer to you and Dad, and …”
Bianca interrupted. “I can talk to Harry. See what he says.”
The thought of talking to her ex-husband unnerved her. They hadn’t communicated much since Mila was old enough to speak for herself. Their exchanges had become rare, transactional—an occasional text here and there or a forwarded email. The emotional residue of their past still clung to her, making the idea of reaching out to him feel heavy.
“I don’t want him to know about this,” Mila said quickly.
“I won’t tell him aboutthis. I’ll just tell him you want to be closer to home—to us. I think he would appreciate having you closer.”
“Really, Mom? You’ll do that, talk to him?”
“Yes,” Bianca said softly.
Mila rushed across the kitchen, threw her arms around Bianca’s neck, and hugged her. Bianca’s heart became full in an instant. She’d longed for hugs like this so many times. And in that moment, everything she’d longed for—the closeness, the connection, the trust—was finally there.
And that was everything.
They ate fish and salad and settled in to watch the series that Mila had been raving about. The one that had her completely entangled. Soon, Bianca was hooked too. It gave them something to do together, a new shared obsession, a reason to sit close and talk between episodes, to laugh at the ridiculous plot twists.
She stole a glance at her daughter, the flickering from the fire casting a warm glow on her face. Her features had matured. They were stronger, more defined, but there was still a certain softness on her face. Bianca’s chest tightened. How had she let moments like this slip away from her in the past? All the time she’d been too busy, too distracted, too consumed. Now, with nothing but time on her hands and nothing but healing on her agenda, she realized this was everything she wanted. It was simply the best.
Chapter Twenty-four
Remi
Oxbow Market was unusually crowded for a Thursday afternoon, but Remi pressed through anyway. She needed a few essentials for the house. She picked up a couple of artisan pizzas, salads, and a box of cupcakes for dessert.
The house had been quiet with just the two of them—she and Zoe. The silence felt heavier these days. It was weeks since the confrontation with Bianca, and the absence of her once best friend lingered. This new space between them seemed strange. Going from talking to someone every single day since the age of twelve to not speaking at all felt like losing a limb or, worse, death. Her emotions in a whirl, grief was mixed with anger, but she refused to give in. Bianca had betrayed her in the most unforgivable way, and nothing could change that their lives—all their lives—would never be the same.
She wheeled the SUV down Trancas Street and stopped at the light, the late-afternoon sun beaming down on her. She pulled the visor down to block it. With a sigh, she turned up the stereo. Dinah Washington’s voice spilled through the speakers, “You Don’t Know What Love Is,” one of GrandmaLorraine’s favorites. She missed her grandmother and would call her when she returned home. If she were back in Louisiana, she would’ve spent a few days tucked away at Grandma Lorraine’s house, her head resting against her bosom. They’d sit in the kitchen eating bowls of gumbo, listening to some of the old greats on the record player. She would tell her about the fight with Bianca, and she’d know exactly what to say. Grandma Lorraine always gave the best advice, and she needed it right now. But she hadn’t wanted to tell anyone yet. Because when you said it aloud, that always made it real.
Her eyes shifted to the right, drawn to a young girl with short hair helping a frail woman into the back seat of a waiting sedan. Something about them caught her attention, a familiarity she couldn’t immediately place. But then she looked again. The woman’s posture, her profile, even the way she pulled her sweater tighter—
It was Bianca. She was sure of it.
Remi’s breath slowed as the light turned green. She eased the SUV forward, glancing through the window once more to confirm. The woman didn’t look back, but Remi didn’t need her to. She knew the frame and the face. Despite the sunglasses, the weight loss, and the scarf covering her head, there was no mistaking the woman’s identity.
Bianca was back in Napa. And she hadn’t told a soul.
The thought of Bianca’s return unsettled Remi all evening. She picked at her pizza and barely touched her salad. Her appetite had vanished and was replaced by a gnawing in her chest.
“Are you okay, Mom?” Zoe asked, pausing midbite.
Remi looked up, not even realizing her daughter was observing her. Her mind raced. “When’s the last time you talked to Mila?”