Theo
The conference room at Harlow and Rowe always felt a little too cold before a deposition.
Maybe it was the air conditioning. Maybe it was the nature of what happened inside these walls: hours of testimony, carefully chosen words, and the kind of answers that could shift leverage if someone wasn’t paying attention.
Either way, I preferred to get there before everyone else. A few quiet minutes before personalities collided and someone inevitably decided the rules were optional.
By the time I had my legal pad lined up just right and my files spread out in front of me, my clients were still down the hall grabbing water, and neither opposing counsel nor the court reporter had arrived yet.
Which left me alone for a few quiet minutes.
I leaned back in my chair and pulled out my phone. Seeing I had a text from Nora, my mouth curved before I could stop it.
She’d sent a video.
Curious about what the video might hold, I tapped it open immediately and settled back against the leather chair.
The screen filled with sunlight and splashing water.
Charlotte was running through what looked like the splash pad at the park downtown, her little ponytail bouncing as she shrieked with laughter. Water sprayed up around her in glittering arcs, and she spun in a circle like she was standing in the middle of something magical.
She looked so happy.
My chest tightened in the best way.
The video wobbled slightly, and then Charlotte suddenly ran toward the camera.
“Are you making a video?” she asked, peering up at Nora.
“Yes,” I heard Nora say from behind the phone. “I’m making one to send to your daddy.”
Charlotte’s whole face lit up.
“Hi Daddy!” she called, waving enthusiastically. “I hope you’re having a good day. I’m having so much fun. Nora and I had a picnic at the park.”
She said it like a picnic at the park was the most exciting event in recorded history.
“And I even went down the big slide all by myself.”
I grinned because going down the biggest slide on her own had been something she’d been working up the courage to do for months.
“And,” she continued, holding up a finger like she had another very important detail, “there was a dog. I got to pet him. He was so cuuute! He didn’t even bite me.”
“Yes,” Nora’s voice chimed in gently, “he was such a nice doggy, wasn’t he?”
“Uh huh.” Charlotte nodded, her green eyes bright. “His name was Duke. And he… he went pee and then poop on the tree.”
She dissolved into giggles.
I huffed out a quiet laugh in the empty conference room.
“That was silly, wasn’t it?” Nora said.
“Yeah,” Charlotte said, still laughing. “’Cause dogs don’t use the potty. They pee outside. On gwass. And twees. And flowers…” She paused thoughtfully. “Oh, and sometimes he is really silly and pees on Duchess.”
“Duchess is Duke’s dog friend, huh?” Nora added, like she was explaining it directly to me.
“Uh huh,” Charlotte said. “But that’s otay. Accidents happen.”
That made me smile.
Charlotte had had more than a few accidents while potty training. The fact that she was offering grace to some random dog at the park felt like a small victory.
“Anything else you want to tell your daddy before we finish?” Nora asked.
Charlotte leaned closer to the camera.
“I love you, Daddy. I miss you.” She blew a kiss straight at the phone. “Bye! See you after wook!”
The video ended.
I stared at the blank screen for a second, my grin still in place. Then I replayed it.
The last nanny had been perfectly fine. Responsible. Capable. But she’d never sent me little glimpses of Charlotte’s day like this.
None of the previous daycare workers ever had, either.
So this was extra thoughtful.
Like Nora understood that even though I was sitting in a conference room about to grill someone under oath, part of me was always wondering what my daughter was doing at that exact moment.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the room. Knowing I only had a few seconds left to myself, I quickly typed a text back to Nora.
Me: Thank you for the video. That was so fun to see.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket just as the door handle turned.
By the time the opposing counsel stepped into the room with their client, my deposition face was firmly back in place. But underneath it, I was still picturing Charlotte running through water, laughing. Because she was having a good day.
A good day, thanks to her thoughtful nanny, Nora.
Charlotte was standing on a stool at the stove when I got home, tongue poking out in concentration while she carefully dumped a measuring cup with shredded cheese into a pan. Nora stood next to her, overseeing the whole thing and ready to step in if needed.
“Just like that,” Nora said softly as she began stirring what I assumed must be the cheese sauce for homemade mac and cheese. “Perfect.”
I set my work bag on the barstool closest to me, and that was when Charlotte spotted me.
“Daddy!” She hopped down, running straight for me.
“Hey, bug.” I caught her, lifting her into my arms and pressing a kiss onto her hair. “How are you?”
“Good,” she said, giving my neck a quick squeeze before pulling back. “We making dinner.”
“I see that,” I said, glancing over to the stove. “It smells so good.”
My eyes slid to Nora next, and when our gazes met, there was a flicker of residual awkwardness in her expression.
“Hi,” she said, an uncomfortable smile pasted on her face.
“Hi,” I said back.
It was simple. A single-syllable word.
Yet, somehow, still loaded.
This morning had been clumsy. Too many foot-in-mouth moments.
The kind of exchange that would’ve benefited from a written brief.
Charlotte wriggled to be put down so she could go back to her place at the stove. When she put her hand beneath Nora’s on the wooden spoon to assist her in stirring, I loosened my tie and leaned a hip against the counter.
“Well,” I said, glancing at Nora. “I just wanted to apologize again for this morning’s conversation. I think we both had good intentions but could’ve used a wingperson in that moment.”
“Agreed,” she said, laughing quietly. “Can I blame my performance on the fact that my brain doesn’t come online until at least eight?”
“Sure,” I said. “As long as you let me do the same.”
“Deal.”
We held each other’s gaze for a beat.
“Um,” she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Your dinner should be ready in just a few minutes. I didn’t realize you’d be home early or I would’ve started it sooner.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Then, deciding to take the opportunity to run upstairs and reset, I said, “I’ll just change out of my suit real quick, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, of course.”
I nodded, then grabbed my leather bag from the counter and headed upstairs.
Once in my room, I set my bag on the bed, noticing Jessie had made it perfectly after the mess I’d left it in, the duvet smooth and squared like a hotel.
I slipped off my suit coat, then stepped into the bathroom before turning into the closet on the left.
The faint scent of clean laundry lingered in the air. Jessie must’ve put everything away earlier that afternoon.
I changed quickly, pulling on a soft teal T-shirt that I liked and a pair of athletic shorts.
Charlotte had told me last night that she wanted to see the ducks at the bridge near our house, so I laced up my tennis shoes with plans to do that after dinner.
I stepped back out of the closet and pulled the door shut.
That was when I noticed the other door.
The one on the opposite wall.
It was cracked open.
I frowned. That’s strange.
I rarely ever went into Alisha’s closet anymore. That closet had stayed almost exactly the same for the past two years. It was less a closet now and more a museum.
Alisha’s dresses still hung in a neat row. Shoes lined beneath them. Her scarves folded just the way she used to keep them. I hadn’t been able to move any of it. Not yet.
And Jessie had no reason to go in there, either.
I crossed the room slowly and pushed the door open the rest of the way. Then I flipped on the light.
The space looked the same as it had the last time I’d been in there.
Ordered. Untouched.
Nothing out of place or disturbed.
I stepped fully inside and let my gaze move slowly across the racks.
Casual, everyday clothes lined one side. Soft sweaters. Denim pants. Summer dresses.
On the other end hung the gowns. The couture pieces her family’s famous designer friends had sent over for galas and openings and charity events. Structured silhouettes. Beaded fabric that caught the light even now.
And so many shoes and bags.
The room still smelled faintly of her perfume.
Which was my fault since there had been nights over the past two years when I’d come in here, picked up one of the bottles on her vanity shelf, and sprayed it into the air just to sit and breathe her in. To remember.
I didn’t know what that said about me or where I was in the grief process. Whether it meant I was healing, or stuck, or something in between.
I hadn’t seen my therapist in several months since I’d stopped scheduling the appointments.
Not because I thought I was healed. I knew better than that. Grief didn’t exactly wrap itself up with a bow.
It just… softened. Shifted. Hid in corners.
A single scent. A word. A song in a grocery store aisle. Any of it could still pull me under without warning.
Just like last night.
When I’d walked Amanda to my car after dinner and she’d slipped her hand into mine like it was the most natural thing in the world… it had taken everything in me not to have a full-blown panic attack as my chest tightened and my brain scrambled.
Not because I didn’t like her. But because my body hadn’t known what to do with the familiarity of a feminine hand in mine. The muscle memory.
Yeah. I’m definitely on a healing path of my own.
At least I’d managed to keep some of my composure in that panic-filled moment. Managed to open the car door for her like a normal adult man.
And thankfully, since we’d both needed to pick up our kids at Romeo and Lia’s place, I hadn’t had to navigate the whole doorstep scene and any overwhelming feelings it might bring.