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PERLA

I lay back on Dr. Maddox’s couch and thought about our recycling bins. Madeline was doing a shitty job with separating the items. Today was trash day, and I hadn’t had time to go through the bins and double-check her work, which pretty much guaranteed that there’d be something wrong.

All it took was one wrong item— one —and the recycling facility would throw out our neighborhood’s entire bin. I refused for my family’s contribution to be the one that caused four hundred pounds of recyclable content to go to waste.

“You look worried, Perla.” Dr. Maddox took her seat, a cup of tea in hand, and I tried not to fixate on her use of my first name. Maybe it was a good thing, her feeling so familiar with me. Still, weren’t we supposed to have some level of professional distance? I was already lying down on her furniture, opening up my heart and head for her examination. Wasn’t that enough?

Madeline was supposed to remove the caps on all bottles, and I would have bet anything she didn’t comb through the bag to check them. Sometimes Sophie put her water bottles in with the caps on.

“Perla?” Dr. Maddox tapped on my shoulder, and I jerked at the unexpected contact. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. I think I lost you for a minute.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”

“I said that you looked worried.”

So she hadn’t even asked me anything. Was I supposed to respond to every comment she had? I bristled, then remembered that looking worried was a good thing, given the purpose of today’s session: put Paige on her radar as a potential suspect. “I’m sorry. I’m just thinking about ... I recently hired a nanny, and I’m wondering if I made a mistake.”

“Oh? What kind of a mistake?” Her voice perked up at the idea. If I ever told this woman what was actually going on in my head, she’d probably pass out from excitement.

“I don’t know. I have surgery coming up and needed someone to help with Sophie, but now that she’s in my house every day, spending time with my daughter and Grant ...” My voice faltered. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“Stop,” she ordered. “Stop that sort of thinking right now. This is your safe space, Perla. The place where you can explore how you feel about things. Your feelings are never stupid. Actually, our feelings can be a very accurate compass to follow. Human intuition is a very powerful thing.”

“Well . . .” I waited.

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t like the way she looks at Grant.” I twisted in my position so that I could see her face. “Is that stupid? Tell me I’m being stupid.”

“How does she look at Grant?”

I flopped back on the couch. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing. She’s just too comfortable with him. It makes me uncomfortable. She stands too close to him. Yesterday, I asked her to go get Sophie’s bag from upstairs, and she was annoyed at it—I could tell. It was like dealing with Sophie was inconvenient, and that’s the whole reason she is here. But Sophie likes her, so maybe I’m just insecure.”

“I think you should listen to your gut. I think you’re a very intelligent woman. If you are worried, there is probably a valid reason. Has Grant ever given you a reason to distrust him?”

Well, that was a question that would take hours to unpack and was best told with exhibits of police reports and photos.

Yes, Grant had given me reasons to distrust him.

No, that threat was no longer a problem.

Would Paige be one? No, not in the next month or so. If she decided to get naked and ride my husband like a rodeo bronco, more power to her. They’d be the last happy moments in her life.

“No,” I finally said. “Not really. I trust him. I just don’t trust her.”

“Are you able to find someone else to watch Sophie?”

“Not in time. I could deal with it after my surgery. And after Sophie’s party.”

“That’s how far from now?”

“Um ... a month and a half, give or take.” Forty-two days.

“A lot can happen in six weeks,” she pointed out.

“Yeah.” I twisted my head, turning away from her so she wouldn’t see the smile that stretched across my face.

A lot could happen in six weeks.

I would make sure that it did.