I knew about Annie before I really knew about her.

  Four months ago Sebastian mentioned her the way you mention weather. Old friend. Back in the city. We got coffee, nothing weird. He said it lightly, easily, and I nodded and said that’s nice and put it away like I put most things.

  She started coming around after that.

  At first she only came once every few weeks. Then every week. Then suddenly she was just… part of the house.

  She’s twenty-four. Two years younger than me. She takes up exactly the right amount of space in a room. Not too much, not too little. Just enough that you notice her. She always looks like she thought about what she was wearing. Like she planned it.

  Of course she planned it.

  I tell myself that’s an unfair thing to think.

  The doorbell rings on a Thursday afternoon and Elise is already running. Full sprint down the hallway. I walk, because I’m an adult and adults walk, and because I need the extra seconds to make my face do the right thing.

  Annie crouches down the second the door opens. She has a gift, small and impractical, exactly the kind Elise will love and I’ll quietly move to a high shelf next week.

  “Oh my gosh,” Elise breathes.

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  “Right?” Annie says.

  I’m standing in the hallway. I’ve wiped my hands on my apron without thinking about it, erasing the flour before she can see it. I smile. She looks up at me and smiles back.

  She’s just friendly. Stop it.

  “Lira,” she says. “You look great.”

  “Thanks. Come in.”

  In the living room she’s on the floor with Elise within minutes. Blocks, the toy, something loud and happy. Elise laughs. Sebastian appears in the doorway. His whole body changes, shoulders dropping, weight shifting, like something in him has finally unclenched.

  He watches them and smiles.

  He smiles like that.

  I bring juice and crackers to the coffee table. I set them down. Nobody looks up. I go back to the kitchen.

  Through the wall I can hear my daughter laughing.

  She’s happy. That’s what matters. She’s happy.

  I stand at the counter and I believe that. Mostly.

  Annie stays for dinner. She pulls Elise into every conversation, asks her questions that make her feel important. “What’s the bravest thing you did today?” Elise thinks about it for almost a full minute before she answers. Sebastian laughs.

  I try too. I say something, a small story about Elise’s week. It lands and nobody picks it up. The table moves on. A minute later Annie says something similar and Sebastian laughs again, leaning toward her.

  I count my bites.

  One. Two. It’s nothing. They just didn’t hear me. It’s loud in here.

  Bedtime. This is still mine. The lamp, the blanket, the tuck. Elise is half asleep already, honest the way she only gets when the day is done.

  “Annie is so fun,” she says.

  “She is,” I say.

  “She’s prettier than you too, Mama.”

  Her eyes close. She’s already somewhere else.

  I tuck the blanket. I kiss her forehead. I turn off the lamp.

  In the hallway I put my back against the wall.

  She’s five. She didn’t mean it.

  I know that. I do know that.

  I stand there for a moment. Then I push off the wall and go fold the laundry because the laundry needs folding and that’s a real thing I can do.