Page 27 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

Willow stands on the other side of the room, arms wrapped around herself, back pressed to the wall. She's changed since this morning, jeans now, a long-sleeved shirt, socks. Covered up. Protected. Like she's trying to build a barrier between herself and the world.

Like she's trying to hide the scent she can't control.

It's not working. Even through the layers, I can smell the pain. The fear. The residue of tears.

"Serena was at the park," I say.

Her face goes white. "How did you…"

"I tracked her credit card. She was at a coffee shop three blocks from Eastwood at 9:47. She's never been to that neighborhood in her life." I take a step closer. "She went there for you, Willow. She went there specifically to corner you."

Willow's jaw tightens. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"Why?" The word comes out sharp, defensive. "Why would you care? I'm just the nanny. I'm just…" Her voice cracks. She presses her lips together, hard, and looks away.

Just the nanny. Just a match. Just a body. I can hear Serena's words in Willow's mouth, and the rage surges again, colder now, more focused.

"What did she say to you?"

"Nothing I didn't already know."

"Willow…"

"She said I was a placeholder." The words come out in a rush, like she's been holding them behind her teeth and can't contain them anymore. "She said you hired me to fill a gap. That I'm a biological function. That the match will fade, and you'll get bored, and I'll be discarded like…" She stops. Swallows. "Like her."

The silence that follows is deafening.

I look at her, really look at her. Standing against the wall in the dark, arms wrapped around herself, chin trembling, trying so hard to be strong. Trying so hard to hold the pieces together while Serena's words eat her alive from the inside.

And I feel something shift in my chest. Something that's been locked down for six months, since Mara died, since I became the guardian of a child I didn't know how to raise, since I buried my grief under spreadsheets and strategy and the cold comfort of logic.

It cracks open. And what comes out isn't controlled, strategic, or precise.

It's raw.

"She's wrong," I say.

"You don't know what she…"

"I know exactly what she said because I know Serena, and I know what she does. She finds insecurities and presses on them until they bruise." I take another step. "And I know she's wrong, because I was there when the match with her faded. I know what it felt like. And what I feel with you is nothing like that."

Willow's eyes are wet. "You don't have to say that…"

"I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I'm saying it because it's true." Another step. I'm close now. Close enough to see the tear tracks on her cheeks, the trembling in her lower lip. "Serena was a single match. A weak one. The connection with her was like a spark, bright for a moment, then gone. I felt it fade. Day by day, the pull weakened until there was nothing left."

I stop and inhale. Her scent is soured with pain, but underneath, still sweet, still warm, still Willow, fills my lungs.

"With you, it's different. From the moment you walked in, I haven't been able to think about anything else. I sit in that office and try to run financial models, and all I can smell is honey and vanilla. I lie in bed at night and imagine what your hair feels like. I watch you hold Lily, and my chest aches with something I haven't felt since…" My voice breaks. I clear my throat. "Since Mara."

Willow's breath catches.

"Mara was my sister," I say. "My blood. The only family I had before JD and Knox. And when she died, something in me," I press my fist against my sternum. "Something closed. I couldn't feel anything. I went through the motions. I took care of Lily. I ran the numbers. I kept the household running. But inside, I was..."

"Empty," Willow whispers.

"Yeah." I swallow. "Empty. And then you walked out of that elevator, and something, I don't know what, something clicked. Like a light turning on in a room I'd forgotten existed."