Eventually I had to drag myself out of my bedroom and attempt to be a functioning adult. The kids would be home from school just after three, Keaton had boxing, Whitney needed to bake something for a ski club fundraiser, and I had to run to the bank and the realtor’s office before they closed at five. I scrubbed my teeth, rinsed my mouth, and repaired my face as well as I could, but there was no way to disguise the fact that I’d been a blubbering mess for hours, and Chloe was right—my color was not good. My complexion had kind of a gray-green hue to it. Hopefully, sunglasses would help. At least my stomach felt a little better.

I managed to get my errands in before the bus brought the kids home, although everyone in the realtor’s office and bank probably thought I was nuts for wearing my sunglasses inside.

Back at home, I made the kids a healthy snack and prayed they wouldn’t notice my puffy eyes. Keaton seemed oblivious while he ate his celery sticks and peanut butter, chattering excitedly about a project he wanted to do for the upcoming science fair, but Whitney eyeballed me steadily over her plate of carrots and hummus and hardly touched her food.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked her, avoiding eye contact.

“A little,” she replied, pushing a few baby carrots around on her plate. “Are you okay?”

Keaton stopped eating and looked at me too.

“Of course.” I tried to fake a smile, but it felt sort of ghoulish. “Finish your snacks so we can get to the gym on time. While Keaton is boxing, Whit, we’ll hit the grocery store for whatever you need to bake. What was it you wanted to make?”

“Mississippi Mud brownies.”

“Ooh, those are good. Let me pull up the recipe to make a grocery list.”

She continued to study me while I checked the recipe on my phone, looked in my mother’s pantry to see what was there already, and scribbled a quick list of what we’d need to purchase. We’d been getting along really well since New Year’s Eve, although never again did we discuss Henry or what had happened that night. She knew I’d been working at the winery, but if it bothered her, she never said anything about it.

She’d been pretty sad and clingy while in California, but I hadn’t blamed her. That was an emotional weekend for us all, and it didn’t help that Brett was preoccupied with soothing Kimmy’s ruffled pregnant feathers the whole time. He did manage to spend some time with the kids, but I knew it wasn’t the kind of time or attention they were craving from him.

I knew it all too well.

* * *