Chapter 69

[ 1,069 words ]

Katia’s POV

“We have a significant contract together. It’s courtesy p>

“Julian Windsor does not do courtesy. He does precision.” She paused. “He said your friend Katia seems like someone who doesn’t sleep enough. Which from Julian means he’s been watching you closely enough to notice. Which means p>

“Gail p>

“I’m just reporting facts p>

“Stop reporting facts p>

The school doors opened, and I was grateful for the noise and the movement and the legitimate reason to look somewhere other than at Gail’s expression, which was doing something careful and warm and knowing that I had absolutely no bandwidth for right now.

Aiden came through the doors third. Not running, he had decided running was for people who hadn’t planned ahead but walking with intent, a backpack on both shoulders, already scanning the pavement. He spotted Gail first. His whole face changed.

“Aunty G.” He said it the way other people said finally.

“There he is.” She crouched and he walked straight into the hug without breaking stride, which meant he had been planning it since the doors. “How was school p>

“Informative,” he said into her shoulder. “We did fractions. I already knew fractions.” He pulled back and looked at her with great seriousness. “I didn’t say that, though. Mrs. Patterson doesn’t like it when I already know things p>

“Very diplomatic p>

“I’m learning.” He looked up at me. “Hi, Mum p>

“Hi baby p>

“Can we get the bus to the aquarium? I want to see how the route works p>

“We have a car, Aiden p>

“I know. But the bus is more interesting.” He had already turned back to Gail. “Aunty G, did you know octopuses have three hearts? Two pumps blood to the gills, and one pumps it to the body. If you stress them, the main heart stops.” He started walking toward the car, apparently having resolved the bus question unilaterally. “I think that’s very relatable p>

Gail looked at me.

I looked back.

“He’s six,” I said.

“I know p>

“I don’t know where he gets it p>

We both knew I was lying. The aquarium was Aiden’s church. He moved through it with the reverence of someone visiting somewhere sacred, slow and reading every information panel, asking the staff questions that made them check their own knowledge before answering. Gail matched his pace without complaint, which was why he loved her. She never rushed him. She just stayed.

I watched them at the jellyfish tank. The light was blue and shifting, and Aiden had his nose approximately three centimetres from the glass, narrating something to Gail in a low, serious voice. She had her hand lightly on his shoulder, not holding, just present. Just there.

Six years she had been in his life. She had never once made me feel like a burden or a cautionary tale. She showed up. Consistently, completely, in the specific way that mattered.

I owed her the truth. The whole truth. I had known that for years and I kept not telling it — rationing it out in careful portions. The one night stand. The pregnancy. The building. The return. Never Vegas. Never the name I didn’t have. Never the full impossible shape of what I didn’t know.

“He’s asking about the breeding cycle,” Gail said, appearing at my shoulder. “The jellyfish. The staff member looks slightly frightened p>

“She should be p>

We stood watching him for a moment. Then in the easy way she had of moving between things: “Julian’s working with someone new. On the Catwoman search p>

My coffee stopped halfway to my mouth.

“The racing thing.” She rolled her eyes with the fondness of someone who had watched a sibling be irrational about something for a very long time. “He’s hired an intelligence analyst. Spent twelve years tracking financial criminals and now applies the same methodology to racing aliases.” She shook her head. “He thinks she’s in the city. Has been the whole time. Getting close, he says p>

“He’s not wrong,” I said, very carefully. “About Catwoman being careful. Everyone in racing knows that p>

“You follow her p>

I looked at the tank. “Everyone in racing follows Catwoman p>

Gail glanced at me. “Does it bother you? Him being obsessed with finding some mystery woman p>

Yes. No. In ways I had absolutely no right to explain to her.

“Why would it bother me?” I said.

She looked at me with that careful, warm, knowing expression I had no bandwidth for.

“No reason,” she said.

Aiden appeared between us, having concluded his jellyfish briefing. He looked up at Gail with the expression he wore when he was about to say something that would require careful handling.

“Aunty G,” he said. “Tell me about your brother p>

I inhaled quietly.

“My brother?” Gail blinked. “Julian p>

“You have another one p>

“No, just Julian p>

“Then Julian.” He put his hands behind his back. Rocked slightly on his heels. “Mum works with him. I want to know if he’s interesting p>

“Aiden—” I started.

“He’s very interesting,” Gail said, smiling in a way I absolutely did not trust. “He’s intense. Works too much. Obsessed with racing.” She glanced at me over Aiden’s head. “He doesn’t let people see him coming p>

Aiden considered this with the gravity of a Supreme Court judge. “Is he good at things p>

“Almost annoyingly good at things p>

“Does he lose p>

Gail’s smile shifted into something I liked even less. “He lost once,” she said. “A long time ago. To someone he’s never forgotten p>

The aquarium hummed around us. Behind the glass, a jellyfish drifted in its boneless, luminous way, completely unbothered by everything.

“He sounds cool,” Aiden announced, and walked off toward the shark exhibit.

I stared straight ahead at the tank.

Gail said nothing.

I said nothing.

The jellyfish continued to drift.

On the drive home Aiden sat in the back with his notebook, recording cephalopod facts in handwriting that ignored every request to slow down. The city moved past the windows. I kept my eyes on the road.

From the back seat, without looking up: “Mum p>

“Mm p>

“Aunty Gail’s brother sounds like someone worth knowing p>

I pressed the brake at a yellow light that was still yellow.

“Go to sleep, Aiden p>

“I’m not tired,” the scratch of the pen. “He lost once to someone he’s never forgotten.” A pause. “That’s actually very romantic p>

The light turned green.

I drove.

My hands were perfectly steady on the wheel because they always were after something that felt like a near miss.

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