Claire hadn’t expected to see Amelia on her doorstep again. Especially not so soon after Brad’s visit. The past few days had left her emotionally wrung out, raw in ways she hadn’t dared to admit, not even to herself.
When the doorbell rang that morning, she’d just finished making a cup of tea. She padded to the door barefoot, her heart giving a small jolt when she saw Amelia through the peephole.
A part of her wanted to pretend she wasn’t home. Another part—the louder, guiltier part—knew she had no right to hide.
Claire opened the door.
Amelia stood there, dressed in jeans and a soft sweater, hair pulled back loosely, looking both exhausted and composed at once. Her eyes were shadowed with something heavy.
“Hey,” Amelia said, offering a small smile.
“Hey.” Claire stepped aside. “Come
