Her dark hair was pulled into a loose ponytail.
She wore a cream-colored sweater and jeans.
When she saw me, she froze.
Her eyes moved over my shaved head.
Then toward Nathan.
Then back to me.
“Oh.”
That was all she said.
Oh.
I almost laughed.
I looked at Nathan.
“Who is she?”
He didn’t answer.
The woman looked confused.
“Who are you?”
I stared at her.
“This is my house.”
Her eyes widened.
She looked at Nathan.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Tell you what?” I asked.
Nathan stepped between us.
“Sofia, please.”
I moved around him.
“Who is she?”
The woman tightened her grip on the overnight bag.
“My name is Rachel.”
Rachel.
I repeated the name silently.
I had heard it before.
Not from Nathan.
From his phone.
Months ago.
A name that occasionally appeared on his screen.
A name he always dismissed as “someone from work.”
