Page 156 of Clinically Delicious
“Nothing. Just... breathe.”
We stood there for what felt like an eternity but was probably only five minutes before the door opened.
Ms. Rodriguez stepped out, Megan behind her, still smiling.
Good.
That’s good.
If Megan’s smiling, that’s good.
“Thank you, Megan,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“You’re welcome! Wanna see my bathroom? It has fish everywhere.”
Despite everything, I felt my mouth twitch.
That’s my girl.
“I think I’ve seen enough,” Ms. Rodriguez said. “But thank you for the offer.”
We walked back downstairs, where my colleagues had arranged themselves in what I assumed they thought was a casual, natural configuration. Hayden was now sitting on the couch, on the actual couch this time, not the arm, looking like he’d been there all along. Nathan was in the kitchen, holding a glass of water he’d apparently poured himself. Fitz had returned, his expression now under control, though his eyes were still suspiciously bright, and Julien remained by the coat closet, still guarding the evidence of our teepee disaster.
Ms. Rodriguez surveyed the room one more time, her eyes moving from the gleaming kitchen to the slightly askew couch cushion to the trail of glitter that caught the light.
She sees it.
She sees all of it.
She knows something’s off.
“Dr. Lyon,” she said, turning to face me. “How long have you and Mrs. Lyon been married?”
Here it is.
The question I’ve been dreading.
“Not long,” I said carefully. “Our relationship developed quickly. When you know, you know.”
Smooth, Gabriel.
Very convincing.
“And you were together before the custody filing?”
“We were... involved,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “The marriage happened quickly once we realized how serious we were about each other.”
And by serious, I mean ‘desperate to keep my daughter.’
And by involved, I mean ‘sleeping together while she was my employee.’
God, this sounds worse every time I explain it.
“I see.” More notes. Always more notes. “And, Mrs. Lyon, you were employed as Megan’s nanny before the marriage?”
“Yes,” Cate said, her voice small. “But it wasn’t—I mean, we didn’t—it wasn’t inappropriate. We were professional. Very professional. Until we weren’t. But in a good way. A consensual way. A very adult, appropriate, consensual way that didn’t affect my ability to care for Megan. Who I love. Very much. Too much? Can you love a child too much? That’s probably not a thing. I’m sure it’s fine. The amount I love her. Which is a lot. A normal amount. A normal, healthy, appropriate amount.”
Cate.
