It was simple. A single-syllable word.
Yet, somehow, still loaded.
This morning had been clumsy. Too many foot-in-mouth moments.
The kind of exchange that would’ve benefited from a written brief.
Charlotte wriggled to be put down so she could go back to her place at the stove. When she put her hand beneath Nora’s on the wooden spoon to assist her in stirring, I loosened my tie and leaned a hip against the counter.
“Well,” I said, glancing at Nora. “I just wanted to apologize again for this morning’s conversation. I think we both had good intentions but could’ve used a wingperson in that moment.”
“Agreed,” she said, laughing quietly. “Can I blame my performance on the fact that my brain doesn’t come online until at least eight?”
“Sure,” I said. “As long as you let me do the same.”
“Deal.”
We held each other’s gaze for a beat.
“Um,” she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Your dinner should be ready in just a few minutes. I didn’t realize you’d be home early or I would’ve started it sooner.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Then, deciding to take the opportunity to run upstairs and reset, I said, “I’ll just change out of my suit real quick, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, of course.”
I nodded, then grabbed my leather bag from the counter and headed upstairs.
Once in my room, I set my bag on the bed, noticing Jessie had made it perfectly after the mess I’d left it in, the duvet smooth and squared like a hotel.
I slipped off my suit coat, then stepped into the bathroom before turning into the closet on the left.
The faint scent of clean laundry lingered in the air. Jessie must’ve put everything away earlier that afternoon.
I changed quickly, pulling on a soft teal T-shirt that I liked and a pair of athletic shorts.
Charlotte had told me last night that she wanted to see the ducks at the bridge near our house, so I laced up my tennis shoes with plans to do that after dinner.
I stepped back out of the closet and pulled the door shut.
That was when I noticed the other door.
The one on the opposite wall.
It was cracked open.
I frowned.That’s strange.
I rarely ever went into Alisha’s closet anymore. That closet had stayed almost exactly the same for the past two years. It was less a closet now and more a museum.
Alisha’s dresses still hung in a neat row. Shoes lined beneath them. Her scarves folded just the way she used to keep them. I hadn’t been able to move any of it. Not yet.
And Jessie had no reason to go in there, either.
I crossed the room slowly and pushed the door open the rest of the way. Then I flipped on the light.
The space looked the same as it had the last time I’d been in there.
Ordered. Untouched.