Page 10 of Between the Lines

Blaise wrapped both hands around her mug and looked down at the steam curling up from it. “I don’t want this to sound rehearsed.”

“I don’t think it will,” Cece said. “Just be yourself.”

Blaise smiled, then took on a more thoughtful expression. “I do want it to be honest, though.”

“So do I,” Cece said. “Just follow my lead, but if you need a break, just give me a sign.”

Blaise took a sip of coffee. “Thanks. Will do.”

“Okay,” Cece said. “Just remember, take whatever time you need to answer. And don’t forget to breathe.”

Blaise exhaled slowly, then set her mug down. “Right.”

Cece slipped on her headphones, waited until Blaise did the same, then checked the levels one last time. Everything was ready.

She rested her fingers on the recorder and pressed the button.

The red light came on.

Cece lifted her gaze to Blaise’s, her voice calm and measured in the way it always was when she was doing exactly what she knew how to do. “I’m Cece Davenport and I’m sitting here with a very special guest, someone whose name most of you will know: Blaise Monroe. Welcome to Real Life: Take Two, Blaise.”

“Thank you for having me. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“You haven’t been in front of a camera in a while, have you, Blaise?”

Blaise shook her head. “No, I haven’t been. Like most models, when you get to a certain age, the industry isn’t interested in you anymore. Unlike most models, I retreated instead of reinventing myself. I was happy to be married, happy to be a mom, happy to live a normal life. Which I did as best I could. And then…everything changed.”

Cece gave Blaise a reassuring smile. “Tell me what your life looked like after that happened.”

Blaise didn’t answer right away. She leaned back slightly, eyes unfocused for a second as she accessed those memories. Cece understood. Digging into this wasn’t going to be easy.

When Blaise looked up again, her expression had shifted into something more deliberate. “Before my husband died,” she said. “Or before the money disappeared?”

“Start wherever you want to,” Cece said.

Blaise gave a small nod to herself and took a breath. “That would be the day he passed.”

Cece watched her, listening the way she always had, without interrupting, without trying to get ahead of the story. She let Blaise tell things the way she wanted to so the story unfolded naturally, without feeling forced.

This was why Cece had decided to create this podcast. This was raw and real and deeply touching. Whatever came out of this, however it was received, however far it went, it would be worth it.

And that was all she could ask for.

Chapter Four

Essie set the fruit platter on the counter and adjusted it so the strawberries were front and center. Not that it mattered, the kids would devour it all, but it gave her something to do with her hands.

The house was clean and ready. It was always clean, but Essie liked to stay a step ahead of whatever came next. Right now, that meant company. Complicated company.

Sophie sat at the small dining table, her phone in her hand, shoulders curved inward as if she were wishing she could collapse in on herself. She’d been there since she’d gotten up, which was only about an hour ago. She was quiet to the point of invisibility, whatever coffee was left in her cup long gone cold.

Essie couldn’t remember the last time she’d shared a house with someone who felt so determined not to be part of it.

Essie took a breath and crossed the room. “I made more coffee,” she said gently. “A fresh pot. Do you want a cup?”

Sophie looked up, startled, like she’d forgotten Essie was there. Her expression flickered from guarded to wary then to tired. “I’m okay,” she said. And, as an afterthought, “Thanks.”

Essie nodded and let her be. She poured herself a mug and leaned against the counter, mindful not to make Sophie think she was hovering. “Liliana and the kids should be here in a couple of hours.”