Chapter 42 Pretending Nothing Happened

Chapter 42 Pretending Nothing Happened

ELIZA’S POV

Tilly’s question lingered in the air longer than it should have.

Like you’re in trouble.

If only it were that simple.

Vinton had already stepped away, the space between us carefully restored, like the last few minutes had been something that needed to be neatly folded and hidden out of sight.

Control.

He slipped back into it so easily.

Effortlessly.

Annoyingly.

I straightened, forcing my expression into something normal. Something that didn’t scream I just had a conversation I shouldn’t have had.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” I said, my voice light as I walked toward her.

Tilly blinked up at me, still half-asleep, her small hand rubbing at one eye.

“Morning,” she mumbled.

Her gaze shifted between the two of us again, curiosity flickering faintly in her sleepy expression.

Children noticed everything.

That much was clear.

“You woke up early today,” I said, crouching slightly in front of her.

She nodded slowly.

“I had a dream.”

“Oh?” I asked, brushing her hair gently away from her face. “A good one or a bad one?”

She considered that.

“Both.”

I smiled faintly.

“That sounds confusing.”

“It was,” she said seriously.

Behind me, I could feel Vinton’s presence even without looking.

Quiet.

Watching.

Too aware.

I stood and reached for Tilly’s hand.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up for breakfast.”

She nodded and slipped her small hand into mine without hesitation.

As I turned toward the hallway, I risked a glance over my shoulder.

Vinton was already watching me.

Of course he was.

His expression had returned to that usual calm, unreadable mask.

But his eyes…

His eyes still held something.

Something that hadn’t been there before this morning.

Or maybe it had.

Maybe I just hadn’t noticed.

I looked away quickly and led Tilly upstairs.

\---

Helping Tilly get ready felt grounding.

Simple.

Normal.

She sat on the edge of her bed while I helped her change, her small voice filling the room with soft chatter about her dream, about something she wanted for breakfast, about a toy she couldn’t find.

I nodded along, responding where necessary, but my mind kept drifting.

Back to the kitchen.

Back to him.

I don’t like the idea of someone else touching you.

I tightened my grip slightly on the sleeve I was adjusting.

Annoying.

Very annoying.

Because that sentence refused to leave my head.

“Liza?”

I blinked.

Tilly was looking at me.

“You’re quiet,” she said.

I forced a small smile.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important.”

She didn’t look convinced.

Children never were.

“You looked like Daddy,” she said suddenly.

My hand stilled.

“What?”

“Sometimes he thinks like that too,” she continued innocently. “And then he forgets to answer me.”

I let out a soft breath.

“That’s not very nice of him.”

She nodded seriously.

“It’s not.”

I smiled despite myself and finished helping her.

“Alright, little miss. Let’s go downstairs before your mother starts complaining.”

At the mention of Anna, Tilly’s face scrunched slightly.

“She complains a lot.”

I snorted softly.

“That she does.”

\---

By the time we returned downstairs, the dining area was already set.

Anna sat at the table, posture perfect, expression sharp as ever.

Her eyes lifted the moment we entered.

They lingered on me for a second longer than necessary.

Assessing.

Judging.

As usual.

“You’re late,” she said coolly.

I smiled sweetly.

“I didn’t realize there was a stopwatch involved.”

Her lips pressed together slightly.

She didn’t like that.

Good.

Tilly slipped into her seat, oblivious to the tension.

I moved around the table, helping set the last few things in place.

Plates.

Cutlery.

Simple tasks.

But my mind wasn’t focused on any of it.

Because I was aware.

Too aware.

Of the empty chair at the head of the table.

Vinton’s chair.

And the fact that he wasn’t there.

Relief flickered faintly in my chest.

Followed immediately by something else.

Something that felt suspiciously like… disappointment.

I ignored it.

Focused instead on placing a glass neatly beside the plate.

Anna’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Where is Vinton?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

Her gaze snapped to me immediately.

Cold.

Sharp.

“His whereabouts are not your concern.”

Of course they weren’t.

I nodded slightly.

“Of course.”

I sat down, picking up my fork.

The food looked good.

Smelled good.

But my appetite had suddenly disappeared.

Breakfast passed in a strange silence.

Tilly chattered occasionally.

Anna responded when necessary.

I ate just enough to avoid drawing attention.

But my mind kept drifting.

To the kitchen.

To his voice.

To the way he had looked at me when he said it.

By the time breakfast ended, I felt… off.

Unsettled.

Like something had shifted and refused to settle back into place.

I stood and began gathering the plates.

Routine.

Movement helped.

Kept my thoughts from spiraling too far.

As I reached for the empty plate that had been set for Vinton, my fingers paused briefly.

Untouched.

Of course.

He hadn’t come down.

A strange mix of emotions twisted in my chest.

Frustration.

Relief.

Something else I didn’t want to name.

I carried the plates to the kitchen in silence.

One by one.

Mechanical.

Controlled.

But as I set the last plate into the sink, I found myself staring at it.

At the clean, unused surface.

And the realization hit me quietly.

I hadn’t succeeded.

Whatever plan I had been building.

Whatever small step I had intended to take.

It hadn’t happened.

And instead of feeling purely disappointed…

There was relief.

Small.

Unwelcome.

But there.

I leaned against the counter, exhaling slowly.

“What is wrong with me?” I muttered under my breath.

Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

None of this was.

And yet…

My mind drifted back to him again.

To the way his voice had lowered.

To the way he had said my name.

To the way he had looked at me like—

I pushed the thought away immediately.

No.

Absolutely not.

This was exactly how things got messy.

And I didn’t do messy.

Not when I had a plan.

Not when I knew exactly what I was here to do.

I straightened and reached for the tap, turning it on.

Cold water rushed over the plates.

Sharp.

Clear.

Grounding.

Good.

I needed that.

Because whatever this was—

This tension.

This pull.

This… confusion—

It was getting in the way.

And I couldn’t afford that.

Not now.

Not ever.