Chapter 25
The Opening
Robyn
The lab is cold and quiet, and thanks to Dr. Raymond’s veiled compliment—that I’m the only fellow he trusts with his samples—I have over a dozen vials to work my way through. I was supposed to land Sunday morning, but there was fucking snow everywhere.
My fingers move on autopilot over the tablet as I log numbers and observations. As much as I love being in the clinic, the silence of the lab is kinder to my thoughts today. I spent five days in Chicago—mostly at Julian’s.
I finish my set and carry my lunch bag to the food area.
When I open the pink container, a rush of mango and coconut blooms from inside.
The scent is just as potent as when Rebecca—Nate’s mom—pressed the homemade goods into my hands during Saturday brunch, insisting they’d “fix anything if you gave them half a chance.”
Brunch had been our thing whenever Rebecca visited Nate.
I assumed the last brunch we’d shared would be the last time I’d see her—that morning after Nate’s drunken tantrum.
I loved her, but Rebecca is Nate’s mom. So when I saw the string of texts from her after I landed in Chicago—my son says you’re in town.
Let me steal you for brunch—I figured creepy Nate saw me leave with a suitcase and felt more than hesitant to say yes.
And yet, there I was on Saturday, standing just inside The Breakfast Club, our go-to spot, waiting for the hostess to find us a table.
Nate’s mom hadn’t hesitated at all, though.
She crossed the floor and hugged me the second she saw me.
Inhaling the vanilla and cardamom in her hair yanked me straight back to her home, to shared holidays and quiet weekends at her kitchen table.
Her red hair, with signature wiry streaks of silver, was pinned back neatly into a half-up bun.
When she finally pulled away her blue eyes scanned me.
“Robyn,” she said, cupping my cheeks, “You look so healthy. Your eyes, though, you’ve been feeling a little sad too, haven’t you?” She patted them with a degree of nostalgia and care I wasn’t expecting. “Oh, I’m so happy to see you I could just cry.”
“Please don’t.” I laughed, patting her forearm. “We’re about to order.”
We avoided all things Nate at first. Instead, we talked about our work—her as a high school principal for over two decades, me drowning in research protocols and bedside manner tips.
Two ambitious women sharing exhaustion and purpose, and the undercurrent of loneliness that our careers brought us both.
“So what’s your go-to when kids get unruly?” I asked.
She snorted into her mimosa. “You mean every hour of my day? Depends on the child. But generally, I become a bigger, scarier version of myself. They take one look and realize they’re actually not as tough as they thought they were.”
I laughed when she added, “Once, during homecoming week, two seniors brought a doe into the hallway as a ‘school spirit initiative.’ You know, we’re the Bucks.
” She made air quotes around the last word.
“I delegated the lesson about does and bucks to the AP Biology teacher. Then I helped three custodians, the PE teacher, and a wildlife shelter volunteer with a wind blower get the damn thing out. I must say, I would have rather we kept the doe than the students.”
“So what happened to the students?”
“Well, one of them was the sheriff’s nephew. Sheriff Corrigan tried to send me flowers. Kid ended up in summer school, anyway. Wish I could’ve sent the uncle too.”
Nate’s mother was expressive, terrifyingly perceptive, and wise. We orbited through five conversations at once: staff shortages, my apartment, the last book I read, her underprepared replacement, and her plans to run for the district’s school board.
“And how’s your pierced friend?” she asks casually. “I’m not sure I’m in cougar territory … but perhaps he could help me find out if I’ve made the cut.”
I nearly choke on my mimosa. “He’s out of the scene for a while—” I cough. “Just had a kid. But I’ll pass along your interest for … when he’s sleeping again.”
She winked, then something in her shifted. She tapped one manicured finger lightly against the table, and I saw it: principal mode.
“You know,” she said, “I’ve been principal in our district for eighteen years now. I’m retiring at the end of June. There’ll be a proper send-off. Council, alumni, former staff. Everyone.”
Her eyes sharpened just slightly—calculated but still gentle.
“I’d love for you to be there.”
“Everyone will be there?” I asked.
She smiled, and the wrinkles deepened at the corners of her mouth, making her look really in her late fifties.
“Yes. Including who you’re thinking of. She had to come home, not as the prodigal daughter, mind you, since she was fired and all.
The way she deserved with a big scarlet sign not to be trusted. ”
“Mrs. Leigh—”
“Sweetie,” she chided.
“Rebecca,” I corrected. “I get what you’re saying, but Tessa wasn’t the one in a relationship.”
She pauses. “She’s in charge of fundraising. Her mom found her something to do, see if she can crawl back into anyone’s good graces.” She takes a sip of her mimosa and meets my eyes. “And yeah, my son’s an idiot. So what? I still want you there.”
“I appreciate it. I do. But I don’t think it’s somewhere I belong.”
“You were in my family for over two years, and beyond that, you’ve become my friend. If I say you belong there, then you do.”
There was no way me being there was a good idea. It’d be her big day, and I wouldn’t risk taking attention away from her.
“It’s … I’m a no-drama kind of gal.”
“You can call it that,” she murmured. “Or you can call it burying your head in the sand.”
The words hung heavy in the air, waking up all those little feelings that kept trying to escape from where I’d shoved them.
“My son won’t shut up about you, Robyn. And I call it like I see it—with him, with you, with anyone.”
I stilled, then added, “I’m not sure it’s wise to wrap myself up in all of that again.”
Her voice softened, though the determination rang through her words. “Oh, I’m quite certain it is.” She sipped her mimosa again. “You don’t owe Nate a thing. But you owe yourself clarity. And you don’t seem as untangled as you pretend to be.”
Gentler still, she kept going: “If not for the boy you loved … maybe consider being there for the woman who’ll always love you like a daughter.”
I whacked down whatever tried to rise with that sentence.
“That sounds a lot like emotional manipulation,” I scolded.
“I never said I was perfect. I said I was determined.” She extended her hand across the table and brushed mine, settling there. “Aren’t you curious about who he actually is now?”
She gave me a minute to process that while she signaled for the bill.
“And besides,” she added, “I’m the fucking guest of honor. If I say I want you there, then they’ll make that work.”
Now, the scent in the break room is sweeter, mango and coconut swirling thick in the air. I can almost feel Rebecca’s warm hand settling over mine again, her blue eyes steady as she declares that she wants me at her retirement homage.
I blink hard once, and the door opens without as much as a knock. I refocus on stainless-steel counters, on the slow blink of instrument lights, on the faint, familiar chemical bite underneath the tropical sweetness clinging to the air.
“Jesus, what is that?” Serena’s voice cuts in, amused and curious.
I glance up. She and Ellie are stepping into the room with their lunch bags, eyes wide, zeroed in on my container. Serena is already hovering over the table; Ellie hangs back like she’s waiting for permission she absolutely isn’t going to ask for out loud.
“Mango coconut bars,” I say, sliding the lid just slightly closer to me. Too carefully. “Homemade.”
“Girl …” Ellie laughs. “Do you even bake?”
“Only disasters,” I say, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “They’re from … someone I know.”
“From heaven,” Serena corrects, stealing a bar before I can stop her. She closes her eyes as she chews. “Oh my God.”
They settle around the counter with me, the three of us shoulder to shoulder in a way that feels strangely domestic for a lab.
Friendly. And I somehow feel a little bit more settled into this scene than I would have before visiting Julian.
I don’t feel like an outsider trying to play pretend. I feel … folded back in.
“So …” Serena says, licking crumbs from her thumb, “how about a casual dinner? Zac, my guy, you, and me? We find a date for Ellie, and we all go to the bar? Nachos. Beer.”
“I don’t know …” I reach for a bar before they vanish entirely.
“Come on,” Ellie says. “We’ve seen you having dinner with Zac.”
“Fair.” I take a small bite, the sweetness grounding me. “But we’re just friends.”
“You were more than friends,” Ellie counters.
“Barely.”
“Because of his ex being in town?” Serena leans in, as if she’s letting me in on a secret.
Well, I was more focused on my own ex, but sure, let’s go with that.
Ellie scoffs. “Please, she skipped town the night before they were supposed to get married. I’m pretty sure you lose the right to bitch about who your childhood sweetheart’s fucking if you do that …”
My brows pull together. I knew Zac had some dramatic history—but not that. Something in my chest twists in distant recognition. Zac really gets it. How fast a life you planned can collapse.
“Robyn, you’re impossible,” Serena adds, softer now. Her shoulder bumps mine. “You’re not asking Zac to get serious. You’re asking him to grab a drink. Look, I’ll make sure we’re an odd number. Very un-date-like.”
I exhale, the tension sliding down my spine, then nod once. “I’d feel better that way.” I brush a crumb from the counter with the edge of my palm. “Thank you.”
“Dr. Hollis, those samples aren’t going to document themselves.”
Dr. Raymond’s voice’s comes from behind us, calm and precise.