My sister is fierce.

I hope my daughters would be like that if their husbands cheated. I hope they’d poke and swagger and tolerate absolutely no shit.

Not like their mother.

Not these days.

Jenny

When I get home the day of Kimber’s latest fitting, I need a glass of wine. And Leo. I could use Leo.

But Evander has Leo at the moment; the kid is playing something that’s fluid and lyrical and the tiniest bit sad. I let myself in. Leo told me it was better than me lurking in the courtyard like a stalker, but I think he wanted me to have a key for girlfriendy reasons. He glances at me, winks and turns his attention back to his prodigy. Evander doesn’t pause; I doubt he knows I’m here. The music grows, swelling into something more fiery and insistent, then gentles again, the notes so soft I feel them more than hear them. The boy’s arms seem boneless, they’re so graceful, and his face, even in profile, is intent, completely connected to the music.

I wait till the piece is over, and indeed, Evander startles a little when he sees me. “Hey, buddy,” I say.

“Hi, Miss Jenny,” he whispers.

“That was so beautiful,” I say. “I felt it in my heart.”

His face blossoms into a beautiful smile. He’s missing an incisor, new since last week, which makes him even cuter, dang it. “Thanks, Miss Jenny. I’m glad.”

“Are you flirting with my girlfriend?” Leo asks. “Because knock it off, mister. I don’t stand a chance against you.” Evander’s smile grows. “Okay,” Leo continues. “Next piece. Bach’s Two-Part Inventions, Number Five, E-Flat Major, your favorite key. You can make googly eyes at Miss Jenny later. Miss Jenny, have I mentioned that Evander will be auditioning for Juilliard’s pre-college program?”

“Really? Wow! Evander, that’s great!” I have no idea what that is, but it sounds kick-ass.

“Yes, Miss Jenny,” he says, sliding his eyes to meet mine for a second.

“It’s for extremely gifted children,” Leo says, cocking an eyebrow at his student. “Who practice a lot.” He looks up at me. “Evander is staying for dinner, Miss Jenny. Would you like to join us?”

My heart nearly tumbles out of my chest. This is what I want, this easy of-course-we’re-together relationship, none of the angst, the wondering, the will-he-call-me phase. “Miss Jenny would love to. Let me go upstairs and change.” I pet Loki, who wags his stumpy little tail—progress—and tolerates me fondling his soft, triangular ears. Then he gives me a snarl, my lovey time used up. But I guess as stinky old dogs go, he’s not so bad.

As I leave, Evander begins a bouncy, ridiculously complicated piece.

The fact that I saw my father’s mistress today—and that she now knows who I am—is muted by having someone to come home to. Even so, my heart thumps sickly at the thought.

Kimber’s mother is my father’s mistress. Jesus.

I change into jeans and a soft gray cashmere sweater, take my hair out of its twist, slip in different earrings and pour a glass of wine.

My phone rings, and I glance at the screen before answering. “Hey, Owen.”

“Hi, stranger! I’ve barely talked to you this week.”

In fact, I haven’t talked to Owen since just after his dinner party. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, not so bad. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

I’ve known Owen long enough to catch that note in his voice. Not so bad is his term for everything’s going to hell.

And that last line borders on romantic. Maybe. His voice still gets to me, the deep, gentle timbre. I no longer remember the sound of my father’s voice, but I think it was similar.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Ah, nothing. You free for dinner one of these nights?”

I pause. But there’s no reason for me not to see Owen and Ana-Sofia, just because I’m sleeping with Leo. “Sure. Let’s see. Thursday?”

“I can’t that day. Giving a lecture at Columbia. How about Friday?”

Friday is date night. Everyone knows that. “Um...maybe. Can I get back to you?”

“Of course.” There’s a pause. “I miss you.”

“I miss you guys, too.” I don’t, I realize. Once, I counted days in between when I could call them again, so as not to appear too needy and lonely. Just a good, good friend.

“This would just be you and me. Is that okay?” Owen says. “Ana-Sofia has something that night.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll get to see Natalia, though, right?”

“Well, I was thinking a restaurant. We’ve found a great nanny.”

Yeah. And being alone with my ex and his child, playing family, is probably not healthy. “Sounds good.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Owen, is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m still at the hospital. I just... I don’t know. I really miss you. I don’t think I’ve ever gone so long without seeing you.”

“Except for when you were with Doctors Without Borders,” I remind him.

“Right. Remember that time when I called and you were at a wedding? I was so screwed up with time zones.”

“I remember.” That was back when we were in love. When he called from somewhere in Indonesia, and I smothered my cell phone and scurried out of the blue-and-ivory splendor of St. Thomas Church and onto Fifth Avenue so I could talk to him, hear his voice, tell him how much I loved and missed him. And he told me those things back.