Adrien grabbed his briefcase and coat, checking his watch. "I've got meetings until 3:00. Should be home by 4:00. But if something comes up, my assistant has your number." "We'll be fine," Lena said, like she'd said every morning for the past week.
He paused at the door. Thomas has piano at 4:30. Sophieie's got that play date with Emma at 5:00. Marcus basketball practice at 6:00. I know.
I wrote it down. Something crossed his face that she couldn't quite read. Relief, maybe. Or surprised that she'd actually remembered. He'd been managing this alone for 3 years, she'd learned.
Just him and a rotating cast of nannies who never lasted more than a few months because the kids were picky, and Adrien was particular, and finding someone who could handle both was apparently impossible. Lena wasn't trying to be that person. She was just helping out, temporary, until she figured out what came next. except two weeks had become three, and she still hadn't looked for an apartment or a job or any of the things she was supposed to be doing. The divorce papers from Marcus' lawyer were sitting unopened in her suitcase. Her ex-mother-in-law had stopped calling, which probably meant Marcus had told her some version of events that painted Lena as the villain.
She should care about that, should be angry or hurt or something. Instead, she just felt numb whenever she thought about her old life, like it had happened to someone else. The kids thundered down the stairs, Sophieie still arguing about the boots, but wearing them anyway. Adrien did a final check. Backpacks, lunches, coats zipped, then looked at Lena.
You okay? The question caught her off guard. Why wouldn't I be? You've got that look. What look? the one where you're here but also not here.
He softened his voice. If you need a day to yourself, just say so. I can work from home. I'm fine, she said, and hated how automatic it sounded. Adrien studied her for a moment longer, then nodded.
All right, but the offer stands. Then they were gone in a flurry of goodbyes and reminders, and Sophieie yelling that she forgot her show-and-tell project. The house fell quiet in that sudden way it did every morning, going from chaos to stillness in the space of a heartbeat. Lena stood in the kitchen, surrounded by breakfast dishes and abandoned homework papers in a house that wasn't hers. Feeling completely untethered, she cleaned up, loaded the dishwasher, wiped down counters that didn't need wiping, tried to fill the silence with purpose.
The house was too big when everyone was gone. Too many rooms, too many echoes. She'd started avoiding the West Wing entirely because it felt too much like trespassing. Her phone buzzed. A text from Adrien.
Forgot to mention grocery delivery coming at 2:00. Can you put the cold stuff away? She typed back. Sure. Another buzz.