“Hook up?” asked Laura. “Nah, no interest in casual sex, either.” There was silence in the room. “Sorry, never been that kind of person.” More silence. “So far, anyway.”

Leah turned to Nina. “We’re talking about the same Bob that came to trivia that one time?”

Nina nodded.

“The supercute one?”

Nina nodded again. Leah turned to Laura. “You have enviable self-control.”

Laura shook her head. “No, I’m . . . taking a breath. I was with my ex since high school. I really want to be single for a while.”

“But you admit Bob’s a good-looking guy?” Leah seemed keen to reassure herself she wasn’t wrong about this.

Laura nodded. “Sure, if you like tall men with dark eyes and incredible bone structure.”

Lauren laughed. “Personally, I’ve always favored potato-headed men with cranky ex-wives and bitey children, but that’s me.” She looked around pleadingly. “Can we order food? All this chat about handsome men and casual sex is making me snackish.”

•   •   •

Later, after Leah and Lauren went home, Laura helped Nina tidy up. She’d been able to answer most of the human biology and science questions Nina had prepared, and ended up feeling pretty pleased with herself. She wasn’t good at the button pressing—particularly as Nina had a duck-quack buzzer that made her giggle every time—but Nina didn’t seem worried about that.

“So, you’re a neighborhood kid?” she asked Nina. “You grew up here?” She gazed around the room at all the pictures and artwork, the endless rows of books. There was a lot of color and pattern in the room, a lot of content. It wasn’t exactly restful, but it was comforting.

“Well, not literally here, but this side of town, anyway.” Nina shrugged. “My mom’s a photographer and traveled all the time, so I was raised by my nanny, Louise. She’s awesome. My mom would appear every so often, evaluate where we were living, and move us if she thought we needed more room. Then she’d leave again for months at a time.” Her tone was light, but Laura wondered how that had actually felt. Her own mother had been a constantly hovering cloud, which had felt largely oppressive . . . but also provided cover.

Nina got to her feet and pointed to a photograph on her wall of a young man showing a crowd of small children how to load film into a camera. “That’s one of hers,” she said proudly. She walked over to her tiny kitchenette and opened the fridge. “Do you want more beer? Or something else?” They’d ordered Chinese food, and as always, it had made her thirsty. She’d probably wake up with puffy eyes and a vague sense of regret . . . but the pork buns had been worth it.

“No, thanks,” said Laura, getting up to look at the picture. “Where’s your nanny now?”

“In Georgia, with her own kids and grandkids.”