Chapter 2

Nadia's POV

Standing here, I'm freezing to the bone.

His friends glanced at me curiously. Billy waved them off. "I have to go. See you tomorrow."

Billy walked toward me slowly, like he was approaching a stranger.

When he reached me, I couldn't speak, my throat had closed up.

"Let's go," he muttered.

We walked in silence for two blocks, I kept waiting for him to explain, to say it was a joke, to say something.

He didn't.

"Why?" I finally managed. My voice cracked. "Why did you tell them I was the housekeeper?"

Billy sighed, "Mom, can you just not show up at school anymore?"

"What?"

"Look at yourself." He gestured vaguely at me. "Your clothes are all old and wrinkled. Your hair's a mess. Kelsey always looks nice, she wears makeup and nice dresses and she smells good."

"Having you as my mom is embarrassing," Billy said.

My heart was still pounding from what he'd said. 'Having you as my mom is embarrassing.' The words kept replaying in my head, each time cutting deeper.

I blinked hard, my eyes were burning. I didn't want to make a scene in public, so I didn't say anything.

When we finally turned onto our street, I tried to steady my voice.

"Billy. Can we talk about what happened back there?"

He didn't answer.

"You called me the housekeeper," I said. "In front of your friends."

"I know what I said."

My chest tightened. "Why would you—"

"Because it's embarrassing!" He spun around to face me. His face was red.

I stopped walking. "I'm your mother."

"Yeah, and you dress like..." He gestured at me again, that same dismissive wave. "You just look tired all the time."

A tear slid down my cheek.

I turned my face away quickly, wiping it with the back of my hand.

When we got home, Billy went straight to his room. I stood in the living room, my reflection stared back at me from the hallway mirror. Messy ponytail. No makeup. An old cardigan I'd worn for three days straight.

Is this really what I've become?

I sat down on the couch. My hands were shaking. I pressed them together in my lap, trying to stop the trembling.

My own son was ashamed of me, he'd rather claim a stranger as his mother than admit I was his.

Fresh tears welled up.

The front door opened.

I quickly wiped my face with my sleeve. Stood up, tried to look normal.

Connor walked in, phone in the other. He was still typing something when he looked up and saw me.

"You're home early," he said.

"I picked Billy up from school."

"Oh." He set down. "That's... nice."

There was a pause. Connor glanced toward Billy's room, then back at me.

"Actually," he said, brightening, "perfect timing. There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

My stomach dropped.

Connor sat down across from me. "Billy has an opportunity," Connor said. "A parent-child program abroad. Three months in the Canadian countryside."

"It's educational," Connor continued. "Focused on outdoor activities, team building, that sort of thing. Really good for his development."

"Three months," I repeated.

"I know it sounds like a long time, but—"

"When did this come up?"

Connor blinked. "What?"

"When did Billy tell you about this program?"

"A few weeks ago." He said it so easily. "We've been looking into it together."

I turned my head toward Billy's door. "Billy!" I called. "Can you come out here, please?"

The door opened.

Billy walked into the living room slowly. He didn't look at me.

"Your father says you have a program," I said. "In Canada."