A/N: It has been a while since I posted an update. I was dealing with a horrendous bout of anxiety back in the winter, then obviously the shit hit the fan globally and in the United States, so I wasn't particularly in a writing mood. But I have managed this update. I make no promises about updates because clearly I'm wrong whenever I try. Just know I do my best. Thanks to those of you who follow the story. And heads up, there is a discussion of a suicide attempt for anyone that may struggle. It isn't particularly graphic, but just wanted to give you a warning.

I greatly overestimated my ability to find a suitable nanny for Stella. I conducted twenty-five interviews over the course of six weeks, only to strike out with every one of them. Three had criminal histories consisting of DUI, theft, and battery. Four of the women seemed to think we were on a date and not a job interview. Two were in their seventies and didn't seem likely to have the stamina to keep up with a three-year-old. A few of them reminded me of drill sergeants I had in boot camp. A couple seemed like they were barely able to take care of themselves, let alone a child. Only six really interested me, and none of them had or were willing to have the flexibility I was looking for.

I was needed back in Trenton for two weeks to do in-person meetings that I'd been putting off. Tank was handling as much as he could, but he was only one person. And some clients were just the types of pricks who wanted to only speak to me and only in person. They told me they were paying me a small fortune and therefore I could be present for an in-person meeting. Katie had repeatedly told me it wasn't an issue, but I hadn't wanted to take advantage of her generosity. After the shitshow that had been my nanny interviews, I caved and asked if she could watch Stella while I was gone. She had given me a smug told you so grin and agreed. She would stay at Stephanie's with Stella, drop her off at the school at eight and pick her up at five-thirty. Seeing as she spent much of her time after work either visiting us or Stephanie, it wouldn't be a drastic change to her routine. I knew Stella would be fine with Katie, and I was thankful for the break. Stella, on the other hand, thought it was the end of the world.

"You said you all done working!" she wailed when I told her I was going back to New Jersey for a couple of weeks.

She cried harder as I tried to explain that I wasn't going forever, just for a little bit. I promised to Facetime with her every night, attempted to bribe her with toys and ice cream, but nothing worked until I told her I'd be back in fourteen days. That calmed her a little. She lead me to the calendar hanging on the wall and made me write the numbers on the days I'd be gone and when I would be back. She still sniffled and asked me every five minutes for the rest of the night how long I'd be gone, but at least the sobbing had subsided. I went through the nighttime routine with her and made sure she was asleep before gathering my bags to head to the airport. My chartered flight was leaving at nine-thirty so I could go to sleep in Trenton and be ready to start my day first thing in the morning.

"She'll be okay," Katie reassured me as I headed to the door. "She has been through a lot in the last few months and separation anxiety is normal."

Feeling guilty, I thanked Katie and left. I tried to work on the short plane ride to Trenton, but wasn't very productive. My mind kept going back to Stella and wondering if the meltdown she had with me would continue for Katie in the morning and then school staff later on. I had considered bringing her with me, but didn't want to ask my family for help watching her during the day.

It felt odd to be back in my Trenton apartment after three months away. It was so quiet and sterile compared to Stephanie's home. She had always told me my apartment felt more like a hotel room than a home, and she had been right. If someone looked around the apartment, it would look like it belonged to just about anyone. I didn't have pictures or keepsakes out anywhere. I kept them in cabinets in my office or dressing room, organized in boxes that could be easily moved to the next place, which had been my mindset at the time I moved into the building. I had opened a business, wanted to make sure it ran properly, but I had never wanted to completely put down roots. The thought at the time had been that I'd bounce between cities, each apartment set up in a similar style to make it easy enough to move between them. So I never really unpacked. Nine years later, I was still in Trenton. I had never moved my boxes to any other apartment. I only stayed in them briefly in order to get business done, then headed back to Trenton. Trenton didn't feel like home. My apartment didn't feel like home. It had once, briefly, when Stephanie had lived there. But that feeling had left with her. Maybe home wasn't a place, but a person. A person who didn't seem to want much to do with me lately.

Stephanie hadn't exactly been enthusiastic whenever I visited her at the facility, but lately she seemed to be getting more distant. She was making progress in her therapies and her speech was improved enough that she didn't have to rely on the iPad any longer, but she still didn't have much to say. She would talk to Stella on Facetime in the evenings, but kept it brief. She hadn't asked me to bring her out to visit and I wasn't going to force the issue. I had learned from that mistake.

My guilt over leaving Stella in Indiana only grew with the passing days. She cried every time we walked on Facetime, asking me how many more days until I got back and telling me she missed me. I missed her too. I had expected coming back to Trenton to be relaxing, that I'd be grateful for the break from getting snacks, playing Doc McStuffins, and answering a thousand random questions a day to be able to go back to my pre-Stella routine for a couple of weeks. Instead, I found myself almost bored. I had been doing the working single parent thing for only three months, but it was etched into my brain like it had always been there. I woke up at little noises, thinking it was Stella calling for me. I felt like I had nothing to do in the evenings after I wrapped up my work in the office for the day. Eating dinner in silence had gotten to me after two nights, so I had started eating in front of the television just to have something to occupy my attention. I would try to do paperwork in the evenings, but I had managed to delegate everything so well that I didn't have a lot to do. I tried to Facetime Stephanie a couple of times, but she hadn't answered my calls. I had booked all of my meetings into the first ten days of my trip so that I could have the last four to finish up things in the office, but instead I decided to leave as soon as my last meeting was over.

"Is something wrong?" Tank asked when I informed him of my decision.

"No. I just want to get back to Stella," I said as I packed my computer and files back into my work bag. "She misses me and cries a lot."

"Damn, you are that munchkin's bitch," Tank replied with disapproving shake of his head.

"I'm not ashamed to admit that I miss my kid. I miss her asking me ridiculous questions about why we can't drive to the moon or why cats use litter boxes and not the toilet, and wanting me to watch Paw Patrol with her and asking me every time which dog is my favorite. And I always have to say Skye, the girl dog in the helicopter because that's her favorite and if I don't say Skye, then she spends the entire episode trying to make Skye my favorite. I personally like Marshall the fire dog because he's a doofus and I appreciate a firefighter who—," I cut myself off, horrified that I had actually said most of that shit out loud and glanced over at Tank, who had a genuine look over concern on his face. He was probably wondering when I had suffered a head injury of my own.

I cleared my throat and zipped up my bag. "Get those new contracts over to the Phillips' group by the end of the week. And make sure they have a deadline. That asshole likes to drag his feet on things." I left the office before I could embarrass myself any further.

My flight had left Trenton shortly before six, putting me back in Fort Wayne at eight. I texted Katie to let Stella stay up until I got home so I could put her to bed. For what felt like the first time in years, I was actually excited about something. I was eager to see Stella, to hold her and listen to her talk about everything she had done, even though she had already told me everything on our nightly talks. Katie hadn't told her I was coming back early, so she would be surprised to see me in person rather than on Facetime that evening.

"DADDY!" Stella screamed in delight as I walked into the house, running to me with her arms outstretched. I couldn't help but smile and pick her up. She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck and squeezed as hard as she could.

"I'm back early," I told her. "I missed you."

"I missed you, Daddy," she replied. Then she proceeded to tell me everything I already knew, but I listened intently as she rambled on.

Katie had her belongings gathered up and I walked her to the door as Stella rambled on.

"Thanks again," I told her. "I appreciate it."

She waved away my thanks. "Don't even. It's never an issue." She gave Stella a kiss on the check. "See ya later, alligator."

"Bye Cock-a-dile," Stella said, which made Katie snort.

"Cock-a-dial sounds like a booty call list," she said as she walked down the front steps.

"What's booty call?" Stella asked.

"And here I thought I'd be the bad influence on her," I said, shaking my head in mock disapproval at Katie, who laughed as she headed down the drive towards her own house.

Stella was up for nearly an hour past her bedtime, but I didn't figure it would hurt this once. I got her put to bed and went about unpacking my belongings. It dawned on me that Stephanie's house felt more like home to me than the apartment did. Maybe it was the signs of her presence everywhere, even though she wasn't here with me.

The cat looked like it had grown a lot while I was gone and had apparently missed me as much as Stella, because it wouldn't leave me alone for the next couple of days. Nor did Stella. I couldn't be out of her sight for any reason. I only had privacy in the bathroom because I would lock the door, and she would sit right outside of it asking me questions until I was done.

I had been thrown when I helped Stella make her first Facetime call with Stephanie after I got back. Stephanie normally tried to smile and look happier than she probably felt for Stella's sake, but now she didn't even seem to be trying. The calls were briefer than ever and Stephanie didn't even try to talk to me.

"I think she's a little hurt and resentful," Katie told me when I asked her how Stephanie was doing a couple of days later. "While you were gone, Stella talked about nothing but you and missing you. I think it's hard on Steph to be gone and not be with her, but also see that you've been able to just come here and become her whole world in such a short amount of time. Steph is used to being that for her. And her progress has hit a plateau, which happens sometimes. The therapists aren't concerned about the plateau per se, but they think it's a psychological barrier because she's clearly depressed, but refuses to do anything about it."

Katie had brought pizza from her favorite local restaurant over to Stephanie's for dinner and we were talking quietly to avoid letting Stella hear the conversation. She was in love with her pizza and was telling the cat all about it, so we were probably safe.

"Why won't she get help?" I asked.

Katie shrugged. "It isn't uncommon in injuries like this. It won't be known the exact extent of her brain injuries for a while because she's still rehabilitating, so she may have some long-term damage to her decision-making abilities or impulse control. I'm hoping she'll change her mind and come around. I've been talking to her about it. Maybe you can try as well."

I nodded. "I'll go up tomorrow and see her. I'm going to need to go to my Miami office next week, and I'm going to take Stella with me. She can visit with my grandmother and other family while I'm working. I'll tell Steph and make sure she knows what will be happening with her and that we'll Facetime her every night."

"That'll be good," Katie said, taking a bite of pizza. "Not that I mind keeping her, but I know she missed you a lot, so she would be excited to be with you."

"Has she ever flown before?"

Katie nodded. "Steph took her to Miami back at the end of June. She loved the plane ride."

I'd also been in Miami at the end of June. I had been negotiating a new contract with a large pharmaceutical company in the city. I had spent a majority of the month there and hadn't gone back to Trenton until mid-July. A small bubble of anger welled up inside me that I immediately pushed down.

I went to visit Stephanie the next evening. She was sitting up in a recliner with her dinner tray in front of her. It looked untouched. She was watching television, though it didn't look like she was absorbing anything. She looked unhappy, pale, and slightly disheveled.

I had been standing in her door way for a couple of minutes before she noticed me.

"What?" she asked blandly.

"I wanted to see how you're doing," I said, walking further into the room and sitting down in the chair against the wall. "You don't really talk to me when Stella calls you."

It took her a few extra seconds to process what I was saying, though I wasn't sure if it was because of her injuries or because of everything filtering through the fog of her depression. Eventually she shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit," I said. "You're depressed. You need help, Stephanie."

Stephanie shook her head. "You don't get it. Do you think you'd be so happy if you were like this?"

"I think I'd be grateful to be alive and would be working my ass off to get stronger so that I could get home to Stella."

For the first time I saw something like anger in her eyes. "So I don't care about her?" she asked bitterly.

"I know you do. But right now I think you're frustrated and feeling hopeless. And if you're going to refuse to get medication or therapy for this depression, then think of her needing you to push through it."

"She doesn't need me," Stephanie replied, and I heard a slight shake in her voice. "She has you. You're the best daddy in the whole world. You were all she talked about while you were gone."

"She does need you. She asks me every day when you're coming home. She misses you."

Stephanie was quiet and didn't say anything more for a few minutes. I decided I should wrap my visit up because it was clearly just making her feel worse.

"I wanted to let you know that I'm going to Miami next week for work. I'm going to take Stella with me this time. She had a hard time when I was gone," I felt guilty for pointing that out, but it was the truth. "My grandmother will keep her during the day while I'm working. But we'll keep our routine of calling you every night before she goes to bed."

Stephanie didn't say anything in response for so long that I was about to get up and leave.

"You should take her back home with you," she said. "I can't even take care of myself, let alone her. Then you can do whatever you need to do."

"I'm not taking her away from you," I said firmly. "We'll be back in a week. And she will call you every day. If you don't want to get over this depression for yourself, then do it for her."

Stephanie glanced over at me, but didn't say anything else. She pushed the button for the nurse, who came in a few seconds later.

"I want to go to bed," Stephanie said blandly.

I said goodbye and left the room feeling even worse than when I'd walked in.

Stella and I left for Miami the following Monday morning. She loved the private plane and looking out the window. She talked to the flight attendant and the pilots. One of the pilots even let her sit in his lap and pretend to fly the plane. She talked of nothing else the rest of the flight.

Victor, a man from my Miami office, said nothing as I secured Stella's car seat into the back of a Rangeman SUV and we made our way through the city, though I felt his uncertainty to this new addition to our routine. Stella bombarded him with questions during the drive and he would answer them, though it didn't seem like he had much experience talking to children.

The few people who have been to my apartment were usually impressed with the clean lines, high-end appliances, and expensive leather furniture. But it failed to impress my child. She complained that there were no toys and said my furniture was sticky.

"That's why you brought your toys from home," I told her, pointing to the medium-sized suitcase that contained nothing but her toys. "I'm not here that much, so I don't have anything here for you."

She didn't know I didn't have anything for her at my Trenton apartment either, but we would cross that bridge when it came to it.

I had planned not to do anything for the first part of the day so that I could take Stella over to meet my grandmother and get to know her a little before I left her there. No need to traumatize the kid any more than she had been in the last few months by leaving her with a stranger.

My grandmother still lives in the same house in Little Havana where she raised my mother and her four siblings after fleeing Cuba in the early sixties. She and my grandfather worked hard, each eventually owning their own business. My grandfather had worked hard as a landscaper, eventually employing over a hundred people. He died when I was a teenager and my uncle runs the business today. My grandmother still owns her own bakery, the same one she had started working at when she came to this country and bought it from the previous owners when they retired in the seventies. It's still thriving in the neighborhood and my grandmother is still there every day, though she doesn't do the hard work any longer. She's officially a supervisor, but I figure she's more of a pain in the ass to the employees who all know her recipes by heart, but will never be able to make them as good as she does. She knows every customer by name and order. She knows when babies are born and spouses die. She makes sure favorites are sent to those homes either in congratulations or condolences. At eighty-four, she's sharper and more energetic than most people in their forties.

"Hola, mijo," my grandmother said as she opened her front door. Her black hair was still visible, but streaked with white. She had countless wrinkles from summers spent in the sun and decades of laughter. But her dark eyes still had a brightness to them that wasn't common in people her age. She turned those eyes onto Stella, who suddenly was shy.

"Hello, Stella," she said. "I'm your abuela."

At the word abuela, Stella perked up. "Like my other abuela?"

"Yes, she is my daughter," my grandmother said as we stepped into the house. It wasn't much cooler than the outdoors because my grandmother didn't believe in turning on air conditioning until it was over ninety-five degrees. I put Stella down on the same blue carpet I'd known when I lived there as a teenager.

She and my grandmother chatted while I looked around the house to make sure there was nothing needing fixed that my grandmother had neglected in her desire to be as frugal as humanly possible. I stayed for lunch to be sure Stella felt okay being there and then I took off afterwards while they got down to the business making cookies.

The Miami office was preparing for the finalizing of a major contract and I needed to be here to sign on the dotted line, plus I wanted to go over the final details of hiring for the new job. We were bringing on an additional fifteen people to work solely at this facility.

My Apple watch told me I was getting a call from Katie around five-thirty, but I was in the middle of a conversation and figured I could call her while I drove to my grandmother's house to pick up Stella. My watched buzzed a few seconds later with a text message from her.

Emergency. Call me ASAP.

"I need to take this," I told Martin Rodriguez, the branch manager, and took my phone into the hallway to call Katie.

"What's going on?" I asked as soon as I heard the call connect.

"Stephanie tried to kill herself a little while ago," she said, her voice trembling slightly. I felt my own heart stop for a few beats. "She apparently kept a knife from her lunch and had been trying to cut her wrist open. Thankfully it was only a butter knife, so she didn't manage to get too deep before someone found her and stopped her. She – she kept saying they just needed to let her die." Katie's voice broke at that point. She hiccupped and sniffled for a minute before continuing. "They took her to the behavioral health unit at St. Joseph hospital. She'll be there a few days at least to stabilize before she can go back to rehab."

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, feeling my legs tremble slightly. What had I done? Why had I thought taking Stella with me was a good idea? Had that pushed Stephanie over the edge?

"She has been depressed. It has been clear to all of us," Katie continued, seeming to sense that I needed a minute. "The doctors at the facility had prescribed her an antidepressant, but she refused to take it. The psychologist tried to talk to her but she told him to leave. Behavioral health can force her to take meds, and the rehab unit can say if she refuses that she can't come back. But I'm hoping she'll be more level-headed once she gets the help she needs."

"Yeah. I'll pick up Stella and we'll head back tonight," I said.

"No, don't do that," Katie interjected. "You can't do anything right now. Visitors are restricted and I think what she needs is a clear head. There's nothing you can do for her. Stay there and finish what you need to do. It'll keep Stella occupied. We're going to have to figure out some excuse for why she can't talk to Stephanie. Maybe just tell her the iPad is broken."

I wanted to argue with Katie, but she was right. There was nothing I could do. I was afraid I'd made things worse in that last visit before we left.

"She's safe," Katie reminded me. "That's the most important thing right now. She'll be okay. I believe that."

"Keep me updated," I told her. "Maybe Stella can call you tonight instead and we'll tell her you're passing messages to Stephanie. Because I don't think she'll let it go if she thinks she can't talk to her mother."

"That's fine," Katie said. "I'm going to stop by the hospital on my way home here soon. I'll let you know what I find out."

I wrapped up the last of my work and left the office by six, my mind stuck on Stephanie. She was alive. She hadn't been seriously hurt. She was safe. She was getting help. I repeated that mantra in my head until I arrived at my grandmother's house half an hour later. When I got there, my grandmother was making dinner and Stella was playing with my cousin Laura's two little kids. Laura was helping my grandmother in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" my grandmother asked when she saw my face. She knew me well enough that I couldn't hide much from her.

I checked to see if Stella was within earshot, but she saw me and came running. "Hi, Daddy! I'm playing with my cousins."

I picked her up and hugged her close. "I see that. Have you been good?"

Stella nodded. "Yeah. We made cookies and we walked to the bakery and I saw the man make a cake."

I kissed the top of her head. "That sounds like fun. Why don't you go play some more?"

I put her down and she ran into the other room to resume whatever she had been doing.

"Stephanie attempted suicide today," I told my grandmother and cousin in Spanish to avoid Stella overhearing. Both women gasped.

"How is she?" my grandmother asked.

"Physically, I think she's okay. She was trying to use a dull knife to cut her wrists, but didn't manage to get very deep. She's in the psych unit at a hospital up there. Her friend Katie is checking in on her."

My grandmother came over to hug me. "Mijo, she will be okay," she said into my ear. "She has been through a terrible ordeal and she's struggling. But she'll get through this. She has you and that sweet little girl to give her hope."

My throat burned at my grandmother's words. "What if I've made things worse for her?"

"You haven't," she replied. "What you have done is the best thing you can do for her. You are caring for her child, to make sure she is safe and loved. She'll see that."

God, I hoped so.

We stayed for dinner, which helped keep Stella's mind occupied. Laura kept up the conversation while I sat quietly with my thoughts. By eight, it was time to get Stella home and ready for bed. We said our goodbyes and I loaded Stella into the car. I put Katie on Facetime and let them talk while we drove home. Stella bought the excuse of Stephanie's iPad being broken and told Katie all the stuff she needed to tell her mother for her. Katie in return told her that Stephanie had been working hard that day to get stronger so she can come home and that she had eaten her dinner and was going to bed. After ending the call with Katie, Stella was asleep within minutes.

I carried her up to the apartment and got her in pajamas. She had to sleep in bed with me since there was only one bed in the apartment, but thankfully she appeared to have worn herself out playing with the kids and wasn't as restless as she usually was. I couldn't sleep. Katie had texted me after I put Stella to bed to say Stephanie had started a medication regimen that evening and would be required to see a therapist every day and attend a group therapy session every day as well. She would be there at least three days, but given her recent brain injury, the psychiatrist on staff had told Katie they were probably going to want to keep her a little longer. Katie would be able to visit her between six and seven the next evening. I thanked Katie for everything she had done and went into the kitchen for a glass of wine.

My chest hurt from the stress of the afternoon. I didn't blame Stephanie. I knew she had been through hell. Intellectually, I knew it wasn't my fault. But my emotions weren't as logical as my brain. I went back to bed after drinking two glasses of wine and finally fell asleep a little after one.

The next few days passed uneventfully. Katie texted me multiple times a day to reassure me that Stephanie was fine. The first day Katie had visited her she had been emotional, apologizing for what she had done while simultaneously seeming hopeless about her future. But by the fourth day in the hospital, Katie said she seemed to be stabilizing and was able to see that she wasn't as the end of the road for her recovery and that she had a lot to live for.

Stella continued to be blissfully unaware of what was going on and was loving her time with my family. Other cousins, aunts, and uncles had stopped by my grandmother's to visit with her. She visited the bakery with my grandmother every day and had gone to the beach with some cousins one day. I hadn't been so thankful for my family in my entire life as I was right then.

I had promised her we could go to the beach together one day–or veech as she called it–so I took Friday morning to wrangle her into her purple bathing suit–which had to come off more than once before we left because she needed the bathroom– before loading her into the car and drove to my favorite beach in the city. Watching her laugh and play in the sand helped lift some of the weight off my chest. Stephanie was going to be okay, and so was Stella. She would never have to know about what happened, unless Stephanie chose to tell her when she was older. But a new issue was beginning to creep into my mind more frequently since being in Miami.

What would I do if Stephanie refused to move back to New Jersey? I'd spent nearly every day since Thanksgiving with Stella. What would I do if I couldn't see her regularly? Sure, we could Facetime, but it wasn't the same as being with her in person.

I hadn't had this issue with Julie, because I'd know from a fairly early point in her life that I wouldn't be very involved and had made the effort to emotionally distance myself, though I wasn't as distant as I would like to admit to others. She was my child and I loved her. Nothing could take that away. It hadn't been easy to let her be adopted by Ron, but I'd known it was the right thing to do for her and I had no regrets. But I had never spent this kind of time with Julie. I hadn't taken care of her all by myself for a single day in her life, let alone months. There was no way I'd ever be able to emotionally distance myself from Stella. Even if I hadn't spent this time taking care of her, I would have automatically found myself more attached to her because of my love for Stephanie. The thought of only seeing Stella on occasion was more painful that I could have anticipated. It also brought with it the pain of Julie's refusal to talk to me. Or maybe that was because I'd been talking to my grandmother about it a couple of nights ago. I couldn't blame her. I'd probably be resentful as well if I were in her shoes, but we had become closer since her kidnapping years earlier and I missed hearing from her. I was torn on whether I should attempt to reach out to her while we were in town. My grandmother kept encouraging it, but I was afraid of pissing her off even more. I had mentioned Julie to Stella and she would occasionally ask if we could see her. I wanted to give Julie time to get over her anger so that she would be willing to see Stella.

"Daddy, can Mommy come to the veech with us next time?" Stella asked as she laid in the sand to make sand angels. I pulled her up and did my best to get the sand out of her hair.

"Once she's better, we'll ask her," I told her. "She loves the beach."

We ate lunch on our blanket and then packed up to go to my grandmother's house. Stella fell asleep on the ride there, looking just like Stephanie when she slept. Once we got to the house, I carried her inside and put her on the sofa to finish her nap.

"Perfect," my grandmother said as she leaned back in her recliner. "It's my nap time as well. We're having guests later, so we need to be well rested."

"Who's coming over?" I asked.

"It's a surprise for you as well. You'll see when you get here."

I left them to nap and went back to Rangeman to change. I had client meetings all afternoon. As I was getting out of the shower, my phone rang with an Indiana phone number I didn't recognize.

"Hey," Stephanie said when I answered.

"How are you?" I asked as I dried off.

"I'm better," she said, and I believed her. "Not perfect, but definitely not as bad as I was when I saw you last week."

"That's good to hear. Stella's doing great. Katie tells her every night that she is passing along messages to you and that satisfies her."

"Yeah, she tells me all about what she says," Stephanie said. "She sounds like she is loving Miami."

"She is. We went to the beach today. She wants to bring you the next time we go."

"I miss the beach," Stephanie said wistfully. "It's one of the things about living in the Midwest that sucks."

"You can always come back to Jersey. Point Pleasant would probably throw a parade in your honor."

Stephanie was silent for a few beats. "I can't come back."

I wanted to beg her, to make her give me a list of reasons why, but considering she was in the psych unit after trying to kill herself, I figured this wasn't the time for it. So I changed the subject.

"Do you know when you'll get to go back to the rehab facility?"

"Tomorrow. They've said I stabilized enough to go back. But the psychologist at the facility will be seeing me every week and I'll have to attend group therapy there every week as well."

"Good. Stella will be glad that your iPad is working again."

Stephanie snorted. "Is that what we're going to call this? That time Mommy's iPad got broken?"

"What would you rather call it?" I asked as I walked out of the bathroom and into the dressing room.

"That's definitely preferable to the truth." She paused and then started again sounding uncertain. "When you get back, can you bring Stella out to see me? I promise not to lose my shit again."

"Absolutely. We're leaving Monday morning to head back. I can bring her over later in the day."

We talked about nothing for a couple of minutes before her time limit on the phone was up and she had to get off. I promised to have Stella Facetime her the next evening.

I wrapped up meetings at six and headed to my grandmother's house. We were having dinner there tonight, apparently with whatever surprise guests she had coming over. I knew exactly who was there the moment her house came into view. There was a silver minivan parked in the driveway with a rosary hanging from the rearview mirror. The van belonged to my ex-wife, Rachel Martine. Which undoubtedly meant that Julie was inside with her mother. The decision of whether or not to reach out to Julie had apparently been taken off my hands by my grandmother. I took a deep breath as I got out of the car and headed to the front door. It was time to see whether my grandmother had made the right decision for me.