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“In my defense, I’ve been a little busy. Phones work both ways, you know.”

“You mean busy with the road trip or the hot mechanic situation?”

I nearly spill tea all over myself. “Claire,” I gasp. “You can’t say that.”

“What? Rose told me that you’re staying with Ollie and the last time I saw photos of that boy, he wasn’t too bad to look at.”

“I’m choosing to ignore the fact that you referred to him as a hot mechanic,” I mutter, heat creeping into my face.

“You didn’t deny any of it.”

“Oh my God, stop it. I’ve known the man for like five minutes.”

“And yet?” she presses.

“And yet he seems nice,” I admit carefully. “Stressed out of his mind, but nice.”

Tilly shifts against my chest and I sway instinctively while moving toward the couch. “How are you feeling really?” Claire asks, her voice softening. “Jokes aside.”

I curl my legs beneath me on the couch and glance toward the windows overlooking the street. People move along the sidewalk, entirely wrapped up in their own lives. The world keeps moving no matter how badly your own implodes.

“I feel…” I pause, searching for the right words. “Like this weight was lifted off my shoulders somewhere between San Diego and Brooklyn. It doesn’t mean I’m fixed, but it’s a good start.”

“I love hearing that. We’ve been worried about you. Dex hasn’t been sleeping well, waiting for updates,” she says, mentioning my older brother.

A pang of guilt twists in my stomach. I hate knowing I’m causing my entire family stress and sleepless nights.

“You can report back that I love New York and looking after Tilly. She’s such a good baby. Sure, she doesn’t sleep much during the nights, but what can you expect from a little baby.”

“So true. It can’t be easy for Tilly or Ollie to adjust, either. So what are you actually feeling? I need more than that.”

I stare out the living room window, searching for the right words. “I thought this whole thing would be a fun, temporary stop. Like hiding out for a while until I figured myself out.”

“And now?” she asks.

My gaze drops to Tilly, still sleeping peacefully. “Now I’m starting to trust myself again. I’m making choices because they feel right instead of worrying about what someone else will think. It’s both freeing and terrifying.”

“I’m so proud of you, Peyton. You drove across the country alone after your marriage exploded,” Claire says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “That's objectively badass.”

“When you say it like that, I sound unhinged.”

Claire laughs on the other end. “Maybe a little.”

I snort into my tea. God, I missed this. Not Claire specifically, though I absolutely missed her too, but I missed easy conversations and feeling emotionally safe with people. Somewhere along the way, talking started feeling exhausting. Every conversation with Nathan and his circle became an exercise in self-censoring—I started preparing for them before they happened, carefully weighing every reply. By the time I realized how much energy it was costing me, I was running on empty.

One evening I tried explaining to Nathan why a comment had hurt me. He frowned like he genuinely couldn't understand me. That's not what I said, Peyton. You're remembering it wrong. By the end of the conversation, I wasn't even sure I trusted my own memory anymore.

Claire interrupts my thoughts. “You know none of this was your fault, right?”

I shift Tilly a little higher against my chest, finding comfort in her weight pressed against it. “I know that logically.”

I wish feelings worked the way logic did—that knowing something was true automatically made me believe it. Instead, every quiet moment leaves room for doubt to creep back in, whispering that I should've seen the manipulation sooner.

“That’s more complicated. Because emotionally, there’s still a part of me that wonders how I missed the signs. I was so stupid and naive.”

“You trusted someone you loved,” Claire says firmly. “That’s not stupidity, Peyton.”

“I know, but I keep replaying everything, wondering where I should’ve seen it coming.”