He welcomed her into his apartment, dragged the pull-out couch into his small study so she could have a room of her own, and didn’t press her for details on Devesh. She was grateful and she tried to settle into the unthreatening comfort of their normality. She liked Phillip’s old apartment, liked the way the pipes whistled, liked the stray cats that slept on the porch, liked Atlanta. Everything was within walking distance. She could take Katie to the park, browse for books, and stop off for groceries all in the same trip.

Still, both Matthew and Devesh seemed to spin constantly in her mind. She imagined Matthew grown. He would call her “sis” and forget to phone on her birthday, and she would tease him that he went through girlfriends faster than their mother went through housekeepers. She made herself imagine, filling in the details, shading him like a coloring book. And she imagined Devesh—his palm firm and warm on her back, his voice soft and sweet in her head—baba, he said, aati kya Khandala? It made her stomach catch, her breath struggle to stay steady. The pain lingered in her chest like a bee sting, real and unyielding, and so exactly three weeks into her stay, when Phillip pulled her in for a good-night hug and instead kissed her hesitantly, she didn’t resist. She allowed him to lead her carefully to his bed, hoping he could at least tweeze whatever remained of Devesh from her heart.

That was a month ago, and with every passing day, Josie had indeed begun to feel the pinch inside her lessening. She had given up on her reading, knew by now she would need at least one extra semester to prepare for exams, and instead began taking Katie to school every morning and washing Phillip’s chef whites at night. She asked if she could waitress at the restaurant, and Phillip, thinking she felt somehow obligated to him, refused until she simply started filling water glasses on her own. Eventually he taught her how to input orders into the computer and the proper way to pour wine. She served rolls, made small talk, explained the specials of the day. It was repetitious and monotonous and calming. She busied herself with Phillip’s reservation books and Katie’s spelling words, allowing the minutiae of their world to take over a little bit of hers.

Now, Josie sat on Katie’s bed braiding her hair. “Pink or purple ribbons?” she asked.

“Pink.” Katie wiggled beneath her.

“Stay still,” Josie said, and playfully tugged her braid. “You’re going to end up with lopsided pigtails.”

“Can we go to the park today?” Katie asked.

“No, we have to go straight to the restaurant after I pick you up from school.”

Katie sighed. “I hate the restaurant.”

“No, you don’t,” Josie said. “You can string macaroni today, and I’ll make you a Shirley Temple.”

“Yay!” Katie squealed.