“Hey, you two,” Jessica chirps, too bright and eager to be genuine. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” Alicia says, her tone clipped and polite. “Thanks for bringing Stella home.”
“Oh, you know we love to.” Jessica leans forward, smile wide. “I was thinking, maybe we could all go to dinner sometime. The four of us.” She glances at Richard, realizing a beat too late that he’s not on board. “Unless that’s awkward?—”
“Maybe sometime,” Alicia says smoothly. “My schedule’s a nightmare lately.”
Richard scans the street ahead, then the rearview mirror. Everything about him screams get me out of here.
“Well, you know, the holidays are coming up. It’d be great to?—”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Richard mutters, cutting her off.
“Oh. Okay.” Jessica waves with too much enthusiasm as Richard pulls away, leaving a trail of tension in their wake.
Alicia and I walk back toward the house. Though the air between us hums with unspoken things, I keep my hands to myself.
“I can move the cars?—”
“Wait until after seven,” she says, pushing the door open. “There’ll be more street parking. Or after Stella’s in bed, we can pull them both inside the gate.”
The carport can hold two—she just leaves space for Stella’s basketball hoop. She’s a good mom.
Inside, the warmth of the house wraps around us, carrying the faint scent of cedar and something floral—Alicia’s perfume, clinging to the air.
“What is that?” she asks suddenly.
Stella’s at the counter, refrigerator door open, a soda can in hand.
“It’s the only thing?—”
“You’re not drinking caffeine this late.”
“It doesn’t affect me the way it does you.”
“Stella.”
The girl hesitates, reads her mother’s fatigue, then swaps the soda for sparkling water.
“What did Jessica want?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
Stella tilts her head.
“Dinner,” Alicia admits.
“She’s so weird.” Stella grabs her drink and backpack. “She loves going out to dinner.”
“Some people do, hon.”
Stella’s halfway up the stairs when she says, “She wants us to be a version of Modern Family.”
Alicia freezes. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, not the gay family part,” Stella says matter-of-factly, “but the tight-knit second marriage thing. She asks about you all the time. It’s like she wants to be your bestie.”
Alicia stares at the stairwell long after her daughter disappears, then exhales. “Text me what you want for dinner,” she calls up.