“You’re going away?” Flick asked as she was packing her bag. Blackie scampered around the room, wrestling with a knotted rope.

“To talk to a group about our domestic violence program. It’s just for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

Addie brought Wonder Woman over to the bed. “I don’t want you to go.”

Caroline stopped what she was doing. In the whirlwind of all the attention, she realized she had never spent a night apart from the children since they came into her care. Every time she woke to the fact that she was important to these kids was a small epiphany. “Oh, baby. It’s just for two nights, and you’ll be with Grammy Dot and Lyle.”

“It’s not the same.” Flick glowered at her.

“I think you can handle it, though.”

“We’re just getting to the good part in Ramona,” Addie said. Caroline was reading the book to them, a chapter a night.

They’d been doing so well lately that sometimes Caroline forgot how absolutely vital it was for them to feel secure. “Tell you what. We can do a video call and I’ll read to you.”

“It’s not the same,” Flick repeated.

“Why do you have to go?” Addie asked.

Caroline had discovered the one thing that always worked with these children—honesty. “Because it’s important,” she said. “Because your mama’s life was important. The most terrible thing in the world happened to her and she died. There’s nothing we can do to change that. But there’s this organization that can help other families dealing with violence, and they want to hear our story and what we’re doing about it now. If we keep talking about it and teaching people that violence is never okay, maybe we can help others.”

Both were quiet. She let them think about it. She still didn’t know what Angelique’s children had seen, what they’d heard. She wondered if Angelique had coached them to keep silent, possibly because she feared being separated from them thanks to her immigration status. Had they seen her injuries? Overheard arguments? Maybe one day they would open up to her. She wouldn’t push or nag them for answers.

“Why d’you gotta go?” Flick asked, echoing his sister.

“When the organization called, I asked them the same thing. And we talked about the group I started up and the job-training program we have. But mostly we talked about you. And how you were left all alone and how important it was to keep you safe. They want to hear about that. It could help people.”

“It can’t help us,” Flick pointed out. “It can’t help our mama.”

“I know. But you like helping others, right?”

He thought for a moment. Reached down and scratched Blackie behind the ears. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess.”

Caroline sat on the bed and opened her arms. “Come here, you two.”

They clambered up, and Blackie jumped into Flick’s lap. She gathered them all into her arms. They filled her to the brim, and she rested her lips on their sweet warm heads. “I’ll be back before you know it. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Flick said.

“Okay, Mom,” Addie whispered.

“She’s not Mom,” Flick said.

“She’s not Mama,” Addie told him. “But she’s our mom.”

The words burned into Caroline’s heart. “Addie, you’re so nice. Why are you so nice?”

The little girl shrugged her shoulders. “Guess I’m just a good person.”

“You are. Both of you are. And Blackie, too. She’s a good girl. And I feel so lucky to have you all.” Caroline hesitated, then decided this was the moment to bring up something she’d been thinking about for a long time. “You can call me Mom or Caroline or anything that makes you happy. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you two. When your mama died, I became your guardian. That means I’m responsible for giving you a home and keeping you safe. I love being your guardian. But lately I’ve been thinking . . . How would you feel if I adopted you?”

They were silent for a few moments.

“You mean the way we adopted Blackie?” asked Flick.

“Yes, like that. Nothing will change. I’ll still be responsible for you in every way. But if I adopt you, I’ll become your legal parent. I won’t ever replace your mama. No one will. But it means you’ll have a parent again, forever and ever.”

“Forever and ever until the end of time?” asked Addie.

“Yes. What do you think?”

“I think yes,” Addie said.

Flick stayed silent. His arms tightened around Caroline. He sniffed, and her shirt was warm and damp. “Okay,” he said in his raspy whisper. “Okay.”

Chapter 26

Caroline heard a car door slam and glanced at the time on her computer. Everyone had gone for the day, and she’d just called her parents to let them know she would be working late—extremely late. The proposal from Eau Sauvage was a huge opportunity. They wanted to do a pop-up rollout of her designs in a limited run, and when it caught on, it would expand from there. Prior to the scheduled meetings with the marketing team, she had to craft an irresistible presentation. This would make her preparations for the ill-fated Chrysalis line look like child’s play.

She got up from her desk, massaging a crick in her neck, and wandered outside. To her surprise, there was Will in jeans and a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled back. As always, she had to work to disguise her reaction to seeing him.

“I thought you had a date tonight,” she said.

“I did, but I bailed.”

Caroline couldn’t escape a reality she’d been running from for a long time. She still had a crush on Will Jensen. No, it was worse than that. It wasn’t a crush. It was much more, a yearning so powerful it kept her awake at night, plagued by restless cravings. It distracted her all day, filled her with equal measures of joy and guilt.

He was off-limits. Her best friend’s ex.

He probably didn’t even feel the same way about her as she felt about him. Except sometimes she thought maybe he did. Every so often she’d see him looking at her in a certain way, his eyes alight. And she’d think maybe . . .

“Why?” she asked.

“What’s that?” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

Oh, God. She even loved the way he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Why did you bail?”

He paused. Checked her out with a warm, slow, up-and-down look. She wished she were wearing something nicer than work clothes—ankle jeans and a stylized white smock she’d designed, her homemade homage to houses like Chanel, where the workers dressed in lab coats.

“Come on inside. I’ll tell you over a beer.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks. I could use a break. I already told my mom I might be pulling an all-nighter.”

“Big project?”

“The biggest. I’ll tell you over that beer. God, I hope I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew.”

He gave her a nudge, the way he used to when they were kids. “You don’t chew beer.”

She rolled her eyes and followed him into the house. Fisher greeted them with swirls of ecstasy. Since Sierra had left, Water’s Edge hadn’t really changed. She had walked away with nothing but her clothes and personal things. To Caroline, she’d explained, “It was never my house. I picked out furniture and finishes and paint colors as if my life depended on it, but really, it was just to make Will happy. To make our life look happy, I suppose. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.”