The vulnerability she'd let slip with that soft, husky "come right to me" was already retreating fast — walls slamming back up behind her eyes, clinical composure reassembling itself piece by piece like armor she was desperate to put back on.
She'd offered herself, raw and open, and I'd answered with a fucking travelinvitation.
She was clearly deciding whether to feel relieved… or deeply insulted.
"You could have a vacation or whatever while you're with us, Maria. Spend some time with your daughter in Paris. A few weeks? A month? More if you wanted."
She opened her mouth to speak, but I kept going before she could fill the silence with a polite refusal.
"You know she misses you. Luna didn't come to your house looking for approval of our relationship, Maria. She wanted — for the first time — to involve you in her life; completely. To have the two most important people in her world either agreeing on the same thing or at least standing on the same page of her life."
