namesake.”
She straightens up and blinks at me. “It is?”
“Grace,” I tell her. “It’s called Grace. And it couldn’t be more fitting.” I run my fingers along the silky petals, reveling in the feel. Each flower has close to eighty of them, giving it the appearance of a dahlia. “See how many layers it has? Like you.” I pause, licking my lips. “And probably just as soft.”
I knew those last words would send a flush across her cheeks, her pale skin giving way to apricot, matching the color of the petals.
She averts her eyes, studying the rose with forced concentration, and I know the compliment was a bit too much for her.
Take it easy on her, I remind myself. She is the client of your ex-wife. She’s here because of her. The last thing you need is for Jana to call you up screaming because you drove her author away.
“Allora,” I say, pressing my palms together. “Are you taking a break?”
She nods, frowning. “I was hoping to say goodbye to Vanni before he left.”
That makes my heart grow warm. I’ve gotten so used to it just being the two of us. “I’m sorry. He wasn’t really in the mood. It was quick.”
A wash of sympathy comes across her face. “It must be tough. You know, trying to balance everything.”
“It is,” I say, putting my hand at the back of my neck, trying to gather my feelings, which often feel too complicated to put into words. I’m not sure why Grace would even understand them when she’s not a parent herself, yet there’s something inside her that tells me she would. When I look at her sometimes, I see part of myself in her.
“If I had a kid, there’s no way I’d be able to write,” she says. “I’m so amazed you’ve been able to do what you can.”
“It helps that Vanni is very independent.”
“You never had a nanny?”
I shake my head adamantly. “No. I know I can afford one—my parents tell me all the time to get one. But that’s not the way I want to raise him. I would rather put my art to the side and raise him myself, if I must, than have someone else do it. He’s worth more than everything.”
She’s silent for a moment, taking a step toward me to touch the next rose. I should move backward, but I don’t. I find myself breathing in, the orange scent of her shampoo mingling with the roses. My dick jumps to attention and I have to will it to back down.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Grace begins, shooting me a wary look, “and please tell me if it’s none of my business. I know it’s none of my business…”
“What is it?”
“Why doesn’t Jana have custody?”
I’ve been asked that a lot. People tend to assume that Vanni’s mother is dead, and when I tell them the truth, I can see them hardening. They don’t understand. Sometimes I don’t either, but I’m trying.
“She did. For half a year, after we divorced. By then she had fallen in love with this other man. Her agency was just getting off the ground. She wanted to hire a nanny.” Grace makes a knowing sound. I continue. “Yes. And I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that he was with her just so someone else could take care of him. So I asked for custody and she gave it to me. He’s been with me since he was four.”
Grace’s nose wrinkles slightly, and I know she’s probably getting the wrong idea, as most people do.
“You have to understand, Grace, that she never wanted to become a mother. It wasn’t in her. I was the one who pressured her into keeping the baby. I was the one who asked to marry her. It was all me. Had I not … Vanni wouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t regret it, do you?”
“Of course not. Vanni is my world. But I know people are quick to judge Jana, especially other women. Not saying that you are, it’s just that I know Jana very well, and she’s not maternal. She loves Vanni and she gives him what she can of herself, and she tries, which is the most important thing. But I was the one who wanted her to have him. I thought, naively, perhaps, that after the baby, after marriage, we would fall in love. But it didn’t work that way.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“Don’t be. It went both ways. I never fell in love with her,