Chapter 7 Lila
LILA
Iarrived at my studio early, before the camera crew was due. The sign above the window—Lila Morgan Interiors—caught the morning sun as I unlocked the door.
Inside, the space was quiet, filled with the organized chaos I loved. Swatches and paint chips covered my worktable. Wallpaper rolls leaned against one wall. Tile samples were stacked on the counter. This was my sanctuary—the place where I transformed ideas into reality.
Today, I was designing a room for a little girl I’d never met—but who, deep down, I knew would become important to me. My growing feelings for Vance all but guaranteed it.
Margot’s inspiration board was spread across the table—soft greens and creamy whites, natural wood tones, touches of blush pink. I’d printed out the Instagram photos Mia had shown us, studying Margot’s face in each one, looking for clues about who she was beneath her mother’s careful staging.
In the dance photo, despite the forced smile, I could see grace in the way she held her body—a quiet strength, maybe even pride.
In the painting photo, her eyes lit up just slightly when she looked at her watercolor flowers.
Real joy, breaking through. She was an artist. A dancer.
A little girl trying to find herself despite a mother who treated her like a prop.
I sketched a window seat where she could paint while looking out at the ocean. A built-in bookshelf for art supplies. A gallery wall where she could display her work—not for Instagram likes, but for herself. An easel in the corner of the room.
“Lila, can we come in?”
I looked up to find Kenzie standing in the doorway, a camera operator behind her.
Right. The filming. I’d been so focused I’d lost track of time.
“Oh—hi. Yes, come in. I was in the zone.”
The camera operator, a woman named Sam I’d met at the house, began setting up while Kenzie wandered to the table, studying my boards.
“This is for Vance’s daughter?” Kenzie asked, leaning closer to the Instagram printouts. “Margot, right? She’s ten? Going into fifth grade?”
I hadn’t mentioned what grade Margot was in. “Fourth grade, actually.”
“Oh, right. Fourth.” Kenzie smiled, but something about it felt off. “I must’ve been thinking of someone else.”
Someone else? There was no one else.
“Tell me about your design process,” Kenzie said, settling onto a stool. “How do you create a space for someone you haven’t met?”
The camera light blinked red.
I took a breath and slipped into designer mode.
“You look for clues—what they love, what makes them feel safe. In Margot’s case, I know she’s artistic.
She paints, she dances. So I’m creating spaces that nurture those interests.
A window seat with great light for painting.
A gallery wall for her artwork. An easel in the corner. ”
“It sounds very personal,” Kenzie said. “Vance must be so grateful. Especially with everything he’s been through—the custody battle, the years apart.” She paused. “His ex-wife sounds like a real piece of work.”
My stomach tightened. How did she know that? “I don’t think we should discuss that on camera.”
“Oh, of course not.” Kenzie’s smile didn’t falter. “I just meant—it’s wonderful that Margot’s finally coming home.” Her tone softened, but her eyes stayed sharp. “When does she arrive? Tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure that’s relevant to the design,” I said carefully.
“Everything’s relevant,” Kenzie said lightly. “That’s what makes good television. The human story behind the renovation.”
“What else can you tell us about Margot?” she asked.
I hesitated. There was so much I could say—about the custody battle, about Nicole, about the years Vance had lost. But that wasn’t my story to tell. Especially not on camera.
“She’s at an age where kids start finding their identity,” I said finally. “So this room needs to grow with her. It’s not a little girl’s room, but it’s not a teenager’s space either. It’s somewhere in between—a place where she can figure out who she is.”
“That’s really thoughtful,” Kenzie said. “You’re not just designing a room—you’re creating a home.”
“Exactly.” I picked up a fabric swatch—soft sage linen.
“Every choice matters. The window seat where she can paint in natural light. The gallery wall where her artwork is celebrated. The colors that feel calm and safe. This is her space—where she gets to be herself.” My throat tightened unexpectedly. I blinked back tears.
“Are you okay?” Kenzie asked gently.
“Sorry, I just—” I set down the fabric. “Every child deserves a space that’s truly theirs. A place where they feel safe and valued. That’s what I’m trying to create here.”
Kenzie’s eyes were shining. “That’s beautiful. And I think Vance is very lucky to have you designing this space.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “And lucky to have you. Period. The chemistry between you two is obvious. Much more real than anything we could stage with Beau.”
I froze. “What?”
“Oh, come on. We’ve all seen it.” Kenzie smiled. “The way you look at each other—it’s sweet. But …” Her voice hardened almost imperceptibly. “The network’s invested a lot in the Beau angle. They’re not going to be happy if that narrative gets complicated.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Just … be careful. That’s all I’m saying.” Kenzie stood, signaling to Sam to cut. “Great footage today. Really emotional. The viewers are going to eat this up.”
After they left, I stood in my studio, feeling cold despite the warm sun streaming through the windows.
Something felt off. Way off.
I’d texted my girlfriends before I left the studio, asking if they could come over for wine and cheese. I wanted to fill them in one what was going on with Vance and the television shoot. And to just be with the people who knew me best and loved me unconditionally.
As they always did, they said they’d be right over, arriving just as the sun was dipping low in the sky. The days were already growing shorter. Soon, fall would be here. But for now, the weather remained warm.
Annie, Grace and Bella were with them but didn’t stick around, giggling about something as Mia led them upstairs to her room.
I opened wine and a bottle of bubbly water for Gillian. I’d thrown a charcuterie board together at the last minute, full of cheeses, crackers, fruit, and pistachios. We all sat outside in my garden terrace.
“We’re all dying to know what’s going on with everything,” Gillian said. She was looking so much better the last few weeks. Her morning sickness had been an all day sickness but had lessened considerably.
“Where do I start?” I asked, chuckling. “First off, Vance is my first client on the show.”
Mouths dropped, knives clattered.
“Wait, what?” Esme said.
“Yep. First day of shooting I walk in and there he is,” I said. “We both felt kind of dumb that we hadn’t figured it out before.”
“Was it awkward?” Gillian asked, sounding sympathetic.
“I thought it would be but it wasn’t. There’s something about him that puts me at ease.”
“How interesting,” Gillian said, eyes twinkling. “That sounds familiar.”
“Gah, now we’re going to have two of you mooning around, all blissed out and in love,” Delphine said.
“It’s wonderful,” Esme said. “I’m jealous though.”
“I’m surprised to say, so am I,” Seraphina said. “The kids have caused us all a lot of trouble with that dating app stunt.”
“Not trouble,” Esme said dreamily. “True love.”
“Is it true what Mia told us?” Delphine asked. “He’s wealthy? From the wine app?”
“I looked him up,” Seraphina said, tugging on a dangling earring. “He sold it for eighteen million dollars.”
“Oh my goodness,” Esme. “Now I’m really jealous.”
“Me too,” Delphine said. “Although, compared to Alex, he’s nearly broke.”
Gillian laughed, blushing. Alex was a billionaire, after selling his tech company. Not that anyone would ever know. He was as down to earth as any of us.
“Well, Vance is not without complications,” I said.
“Oh no. Here we go,” Delphine said. “Just when I think I’m wrong about things that seem to be too good to be true, they actually are.”
Seraphina shot her a look. “Your pessimism is epic.”
Delphine shrugged. “I know.”
We were all quiet for a beat. Delphine’s husband’s suicide was still hard for any of us to talk about. It had been such a shock and so devastating that to this day none of us ever knew the right thing to say or not say.
“Never mind that,” Delphine said, reaching for a chunk of cheese. “Tell us about Vance.”
“Spare no details,” Esme said.
I told them everything. About Margot. About Nicole and the custody battle and the Instagram posts that made my blood boil.
“That poor child,” Esme said, her gentle face creasing with concern. “What an awful woman.”
“I cannot believe she’s basically sold her own daughter,” Gillian said, fury in her voice. “Who does that?”
“A total psycho,” Esme said.
“And you’re sure about this?” Delphine asked carefully. “Getting involved with a man who’s about to be a full-time single parent to a traumatized child? That’s … a lot.”
“I know,” I said. “Believe me, I know. But Delphine, you should see him with Mia. The way he talks about Margot. He’s a good man. A good father. And he needs help.”
“And you’re falling in love with him,” Seraphina said. It wasn’t a question.
I opened my mouth to deny it. Too soon. Too fast. Too complicated.
But sitting there with my best friends, I couldn’t lie.
“I think so. Is that crazy? We’ve known each other a week.”
“Sometimes you just know,” Gillian said. “Or, in my case, remember the moments together when you see them again.”
What does Mia think?” Delphine asked.
“She adores him. And she’s been great. She offered to take Margot shopping for school clothes.”
Seraphina laughed. “Of course she did.”
“From what we could see in the photos, she takes ballet,” I said. “So I suggested getting her enrolled for the fall session.”
“Great. I have my new teachers starting in the next few weeks,” Gillian said. “We’ve expanded the class schedule so we can get her in.”