Eight
Alicia
Jessica’s perfume hasn’t cleared the foyer yet.
“Does Stella like her?”
“She does,” I admit, glancing toward the stairs and the wine I left behind. “At least I think she does. Give me a minute.”
With that, I climb the stairs, continuing on to the third floor. I give a quick rap against the open door, announcing my presence. Stella’s sprawled on her bed, iPad inches from her face.
“That doesn’t look like homework.”
“Mom—I just got home.”
“What’s the rule?”
She combines an eye roll with a stare in the way only a preteen can manage. “Fine.” She drops her iPad on the bed, face down.
“I’m leaning toward pizza.”
“That works,” she says with a brighter note in her voice—my only clue she likes the idea. Not that I need a clue. She’s loved pizza since she was three.
“Okay. I’ll call you when it’s here.”
I pause, waiting for her to at least pretend to start homework. With a dramatic huff, she opens her laptop.
“My homework’s on here,” she says.
I give her a thumbs-up. “Just checking.”
She rolls her eyes again, but this time there’s a grin behind it.
I’m one step into the hall when I pause and ask, “Do you want to go on fall break with your dad?” He didn’t mention where they are going, but knowing her father, it’ll be fantastic.
She shrugs. “Sure. I don’t know. Not really. Is it better for you if I go with him?”
“Not at all. You know I love having you home. But if they’re going somewhere fun, I don’t want to hold you back.”
Richard and I have holiday custody agreed to for the next five years, but we also agreed to be reasonably flexible.
“The Cape,” she says, referencing Richard’s parents’ vacation home. “Although Jessica mentioned going someplace warm, Turks and Caicos maybe? I don’t know what they’ve decided.”
I almost tell her it’s up to her, but stop myself, not wanting to put the decision on her shoulders. She might act like a teen, but she’s still a kid, and Richard and I should talk it through. If she’s with him, he’ll need to trade a future holiday.
“Alright, well, I’ll call you down when dinner’s here.”
She’s already got her headphones on, eyes back on the screen before I’ve cleared the doorway. Hopefully schoolwork.
In my office, I place an order for pizza, retrieve my wine, and head downstairs to find Noah at the kitchen island, a phone in hand, scrolling.
“I can go downstairs if you prefer. But you said to give you a second…”
“No, please, stay.” I slide onto a stool. “I like the company. I mean, I know that’s not what you’re paid for?—”
“Happy to hang out.” His lips twitch. “Does she know what happened today?”
“No.” My brow furrows. “Richard wouldn’t…” I trail off, second-guessing myself. There’s Jessica.