“Jessica said the two of you look serious.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head—what the hell? Where would she get that idea? And why would she talk to my daughter about it?
“It’s okay if you are. I like Noah.”
“Okay,” I say, opening my eyes and deciding to broach the subject I hadn’t planned on tackling at all today—if ever—first. “Noah and I are seeing each other. And I do care about him. But there are stages in relationships and we aren’t anywhere close to the marriage stage.”
“Do you think you might marry him? Eventually?”
“Honey.” How do I explain this? “Honestly, I… We’re good for each other right now. But if you haven’t noticed, he’s younger than me. He’s got a lot of living in front of him. Kids of his own. That kind of thing. No, I don’t see us getting married. We’re just… Sometimes adults have relationships that don’t end in marriage. And that’s okay. We’re supportive of each other and we make each other happy.” Her lips turn up into a slight smile. “Not every relationship needs to end in marriage.”
“You could have a baby with him.”
My stomach drops. “Stella, I’m forty-one.”
“So, Maggie’s mom had her baby sister when she was forty-four. And besides, I like Noah. Jessica gets on my nerves, but Noah…he’s cool.”
“I’m not having another child,” I say, trying to get back onto the planned topics. “And I’m glad you like Noah. And I probably should have told you earlier that we’re seeing each other but I wasn’t quite ready.”
“That’s fine, Mom. Jessica told me.”
“Yeah,” I say. “And I’m not necessarily okay with that but…look,” I shift, searching for the right segue?—
“I think Jessica just talks about you two because she’s pushing Dad for a ring, and if you’re close to getting a ring then she probably thinks she’ll get one or something. I think she assumed I knew, so don’t get mad at her or anything.”
“Stella,” I breathe out loudly. “I need to talk to you about what happened earlier this morning.”
That gets her attention—at least, she stops talking.
“This morning I was arrested and charged with a crime I did not commit,” I say quietly. “That’s where I was—at the police station, then the courthouse. Not at work. But I have a very good law firm that will clear my name.”
“Why were you charged?”
“I’m not sure, honey.” Those blue eyes of hers question me. “Well, that’s not true. About a month ago I found a man right before he died. I entered the room—I was actually calling your father and saw him on the ground. It turns out he was murdered—poisoned.” The word sticks in my throat. Saying it to my twelve-year-old feels obscene. “And because I found him, well, I was a person of interest, but they also learned I knew him years ago. And I don’t think they have much evidence and there was pressure to charge someone?—”
“But you didn’t do it.” Outrage flares in her voice, protective and fierce. Gratitude hits me so hard my eyes sting. My daughter believes in me.
“No. I absolutely did not do it. They don’t have any evidence and we’ll aim to get the ridiculous charge thrown out.”
“Do you have to go to jail? Is that why Dad?—”
“No, hon. The judge let me go home while we sort this out. I had to pay bail, but I’m not going to jail right now. I’m here. I’m with you. And, honestly, I’m hoping we can kick this before I ever see the inside of a courtroom again. It’s a big misunderstanding, but I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“You think my classmates will know?”
“I don’t know, hon. It’s possible.” My heart aches—the thought of kids ridiculing her.
“Well, you didn’t do it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You would never.”
“No, I would not.”
She crawls to me on the bed and gives me a tight hug. I hold onto her until I hear footsteps in the hallway. I expect Noah, but I’m surprised when it’s Richard.
“Everything okay?” he asks.