A trip.
I refused to lose control in front of my child. I took a slow breath and nodded. “That sounds exciting,” I said carefully.
Mike finally spoke. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
The moment the door closed behind us, I turned to him.
“Start talking,” I said. “Who is this woman, and why is she buying our son expensive gifts?”
“It’s Megan,” he whispered.
“The babysitter?” My stomach dropped. “The one we fired because you said she crossed boundaries?”
“Yes,” he said quickly. “But it’s not what you think.”
“Then explain it,” I said.
He rubbed his hands together, a nervous habit I knew well. “After we let her go, she started texting me. Apologizing. Saying she never meant to make me uncomfortable.”
“And you kept talking to her,” I said flatly.
“I thought maybe I’d misunderstood her,” he said. “Then she asked if she could see Simon. Just once. She said she missed him.”
I stared at him. “You agreed to that without telling me?”
“I was going to,” he said. “I just thought you’d think I was overreacting.”
My voice dropped. “How many times, Mike?”
He hesitated.
That pause told me everything.
“She came by when you were at work,” he admitted. “At first, it seemed harmless. Then one day I overheard her telling Simon to call her his ‘other mom.’ I told her to stop. I told her she couldn’t come anymore.”
“And the gift?” I asked.
His face crumpled. “I didn’t put it under the tree. I thought it was one of ours.”
The realization hit me hard.
She had been inside our home.
While we slept.
That’s when Simon stepped into the doorway.
“Mom,” he asked quietly, “is the other mom bad?”
I knelt down and hugged him. “She’s confused, sweetheart.”
He nodded, then added softly, “She came to see me at school. She asked for a key so she could surprise us for Christmas dinner.”
I felt cold all over.
A key.
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