Once all the commotion has ended, I lie in bed again, trying to come to terms with the fragility of life. I hadn’t expected this baby, but I wanted it. And now it’s simply gone.

I finally fall into a troubled sleep. When I wake again, it’s to the sound of a quiet knock. I glance at the clock to find it’s already late morning.

“Come in,” I call.

My mother enters the room. The expression on her face is foreign. I’m used to exasperated indifference when she looks at me, not sympathy and pity. She’s been different with me since Jace left. Warmer. The shared secrets over the past ten days have cracked our previously strained relationship wide open.

“Are you doing all right?” she asks me.

I shrug. “I’m sad.”

“I know. There were a couple times… I know what it’s like.”

A lump forms in my throat as I realize what she’s trying to tell me.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” I say softly. “I didn’t know.”

She nods once in acknowledgement. “I was thinking we could head to the cottage for a couple days. Get away for a bit?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

She smiles. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll go get ready.” She leaves, and I immediately climb out of bed. Suddenly, there’s nothing I would like more than to be as far away from this room as possible. It’s seen too much.

I shower again and dress in sweatpants and a fleece jacket. I pack a bag with toiletries and a random assortment of clothes, and then head down to the main foyer, avoiding eye contact with everyone I encounter.

My mother’s already standing in the foyer. She’s rattling off a long list of items to be taken care of in our absence to her assistant, Helga. She pauses when I appear in the entryway.

“The car’s all ready, Vivienne. I’ll be right out.”

I nod and head outside, handing off my bag to one of the butlers. He deposits it inside the trunk. I climb into the backseat of the car and relax against the buttery smooth leather, slipping on a pair of sunglasses. It’s only a couple more minutes until my mother emerges from the palace and climbs in the back seat with me.

“We’re ready,” she instructs the driver. We start rolling forward. A car filled with agents follows closely behind. Neither my mother nor I say anything as we drive along the familiar route. The scenic landscape fades to a swirl of blue and green as I stare out the window unseeingly. We arrive at Glendale Cottage. The scent of salty air inundates the car as soon as I open my door.

“I’m going to walk down to the water,” I tell my mother.

She nods.

I cross the clamshell driveway and start toward the worn path that winds through the rugged shore and beach grass down to a narrow strip of sand. I take a seat on one of the larger rocks scattered along the private beach. The wind combs through my long hair. I pull my fleece jacket closer around my torso, grateful for the warmth it provides. I stare out at the roiling, churning water, trying to make sense of the crushing calamity that just took place. I know it will take time to come to terms with it, but that’s not a luxury I have right now.