happy sigh.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” Nate said, nuzzling her neck.
Things were getting back on track. Last night she’d reassured him she planned to tell him about Annalise and the weed, she’d just been waiting for the right time, for when they had a bit of privacy. “We’re a team, you and I,” she’d added, something Nate had said in the early days—he wanted a partner in life; to be part of a team. Gina’s announcement had required a long talk between Nate and Annalise after dinner and then an even longer phone call between Nate and the ex-wife. By the time Nate had come to bed, Daphne had pretended to be asleep, annoyed at how much of a big deal he was making out of this. It was just a joint. But this morning, she’d woken up with new resolve and dealt with the situation in the best way she knew how. Sex.
“I could get used to this,” Daphne said, wriggling a little closer.
He lifted his head. “We should get used to this,” he said, almost shyly, as if their love was still a bit of a question mark. As if worried she might whisk it away from him. Ironic, really, when the opposite was more likely. Given how rattled he’d been by a bit of weed, he definitely wouldn’t cope well with the hard and ugly truths about her past.
“We just have to get on the same page with everything,” Nate added.
Daphne rolled her eyes and suppressed the annoyed sound bubbling at the back of her throat.
“A bit of weed isn’t such a big deal, is it?” She turned to look into his eyes and immediately saw that yes, weed was a big deal.
“She’s only fifteen,” Nate said. “I don’t want her going down a bad track. I’m going to go talk to her about it again tonight.” His eyes flicked to hers, seeming uncertain. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then changed his mind.
“You’re right, of course,” she murmured. “Better to nip it in the bud.”
Tension hummed between them, like electricity, but not the good kind. She needed to deflect. Go on the offensive. She could bring up Gina’s slightly odd behavior to prime Nate in case Gina tattled again. Or said something bad about her.
“Nate?” She took one of his hands in hers. “Can we talk about…. I worry Gina doesn’t like me.”
“Oh, honey.” Nate’s expression immediately softened. He squeezed her hand. “She’s only…. She gets jealous.”
“Of you? I mean, of me taking up your time?”
Nate nodded, then looked uncomfortable. “I wonder whether she’s still hoping Marianne and I will get back together. The last time I dated—” He broke off to shake his head. “Poor kid.” With a sigh he leaned forward to kiss her forehead, then stood up.
“I might talk to Annalise this morning before breakfast instead,” he said, almost absent-mindedly.
Yeah, because teenagers love that, Daphne thought. Intense conversations with their parents at the crack of dawn.
“Marianne made a few good points that I didn’t bring up last night.”
“Sure.”
Daphne rolled out of bed too, facing away from him so he couldn’t see her expression.
“I’ll get breakfast started,” she said.
Once Nate had disappeared down the hallway, Daphne mentally replayed their conversation. She could use Gina’s potential jealousy as a reason for any future stories Gina might tell. Anything that made Daphne look bad. Whether they were truthful or not didn’t matter. Eight-year-olds lied all the time.
She wandered into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. She leaned against the counter and scrolled through her phone, checking out the headlines. When she looked up, she gasped. In the reflected glass of the kitchen window, a shape stood behind her. Gina. Holding her two goddamn dolls, of course. Daphne swallowed as she turned to face her. “I thought you were still in bed,” she said, feeling strangely nervous.
Having Gina around was like being on a rollercoaster but without the fun; just endlessly waiting for the drop.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“Talking to Annalise.”
Gina blinked.
Daphne forced a smile. “Cereal or toast for breakfast?”
Gina lifted her chin. “I can do it.” She padded to the fridge and stuffed both the dolls under one arm so she could pull out the milk, then went to the pantry.
“I suppose you can.”
Daphne glanced in the direction of the bedrooms. “Where’s Ryan?”
Gina shrugged.
“I’ll get him up.”
But instead of going to Ryan’s room, Daphne paused outside Annalise’s. The door was closed but their conversation was audible. What has Annalise been saying to her father? Blaming Daphne somehow, deflecting from herself? She leaned against the frame and tilted her head closer to the door.
“Since we’re ratting each other out,” Annalise said, sounding mutinous, “I caught Gina stealing matches from the kitchen.”
“Oh,” Nate said, his voice low.
“Do you think she—”
“No. I don’t. All that is over, now. Her therapist said there’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure everything will be fine.”