Our girl.Good heavens, this was a dear woman. A good, dear, kind woman who cared about Nolie.
She blinked at Tessa, fighting for calm with a few deep breaths. “I’m…I’m sorry, Tessa.”
Inching back, Tessa’s smile wavered as she searched Crista’s face. “Are you going to whack out on me again for something that happened thirty years ago and I had no control over?”
Tears burned Crista’s lids. Shame, regret, and another wave of utter lack of self-control. “No, I’m not. I’m literally apologizing. I’m sorry for…all that.”
Tessa’s shoulders dropped as she stepped closer. “It’s okay.”
“No, actually, it’s not,” Crista said. “I don’t know why I acted like that. You didn’t deserve it. You deserve my gratitude.”
On a long sigh, Tessa dropped onto the bed, placing the iPad between them. “I’m just really proud of Nolie.”
“You should be,” Crista said. “You’ve done something in a few weeks that we haven’t been able to do the whole school year. Not even close.”
“Because I’m dyslexic, too,” Tessa said gently. “Remember that, okay? It’s like I speak her language and you don’t.”
“You do speak her language,” Crista said. “I’ve honestly never seen her connect so easily with anyone outside of our family. I should be throwing my arms around you in appreciation and yet…” She put her hand on her stomach, dread making it roll.
Because when her mother found out it was Tessa Wylie who’d helped Nolie get into third grade, there would be hell to pay.
“Crista?” Tessa leaned in. “You okay? You look a little…green around the gills, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m fine. It’s the emotion. The revelations. The guilt.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I think that’s what’s really getting to me.”
“Let it go,” Tessa said. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. First of all, your mother is putting ridiculous parameters around your life. Around all of you. She gives you this house to keep or sell but it comes with a caveat that says, ‘Don’t breathe the same air as a Wylie’?”
Crista laughed. “That’s what Vivien has said from the beginning. Could this be an unconditional gift? Does Maggie Lawson know the meaning of that?” She cringed as she said the words. “Oh, listen to me. I never say anything bad about my mother. I always defend her.”
“You’re a good daughter, but you have to putyourdaughter first. Her needs, her education, and, well, her tutor, who happens to be a Wylie.” Tessa smiled. “Does it matter, if Nolie is thriving?”
Crista searched the beautiful face of the woman sitting next to her. “You were always a little nicer to me than any of the other ‘big kids’ at the house,” she said, as surprised as Tessa was at the unexpected change of subject. But she realized she’d wanted to say it for a while now.
“You might not remember,” she continued, “but when I had to be in a sleeping bag on the floor, I almost always woke up in your bed.”
“’Cause I was scared I’d walk on you when I sneaked in late from a night swim with some cute boy.”
“But you cared,” Crista said. “I think I knew that when I handed Nolie to you. You have a caring heart.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “Don’t let that get out. It’ll ruin my hard-earned reputation as cold-hearted?—”
“No.” Crista put her hand on Tessa’s arm. “You’re not cold-hearted. You actually would have made a spectacular mother. Nolie is proof of that.”
Tessa’s soft expression slowly grew…harder. Cooler. Slightly distant. “Well, I wasn’t.” She picked up the iPad. “Now, do you want to tell Anth—” She froze. “What’s wrong, Crista?”
Crista stood, almost unable to talk as her throat thickened. “I think…I’m going to be sick.”
She didn’t wait for Tessa to react, but tore into the ensuite and flung the toilet seat up.
“Crista?”
She waved her off and leaned over, getting almost instant relief when her whole lunch came back up.
After a moment, she stood up and turned to the sink, flipping on the water to rinse her mouth. When she looked up into the mirror, she didn’t meet her own gaze but Tessa’s.
The other woman stood right behind her, quiet, with a very knowing look in her eyes.
“It’s like I can’t control anything,” Crista whispered. “Mood, food, tears…”
