Page 61 of Two Hit Wonder

"I'm eating." She stabbed a piece of fish. "See? Eating."

"You're rearranging food and occasionally putting some in your mouth. That's not the same thing."

Iona sighed. He knew her too well. Eight years of marriage, fourteen years of co-parenting. Shepherd Nixon could read her like a balance sheet.

"I'm distracted," she admitted.

"I noticed." He set down his knife and fork. "Do you want to talk about Mo, or do you want to pretend we're here to discuss the weather?"

"The weather's been lovely."

"Iona."

"Fine. Mo. What are we going to do about Mo?"

"I was hoping you had ideas."

"I see her bedroom door every day, Shep. Mo herself has become a rare sighting. Like a weirdly sullen bird that only emerges to raid the refrigerator."

Shepherd grinned, but there was worry underneath. "She's fourteen."

"I was there for the birth, if you recall."

"I meant that fourteen is difficult. We were all difficult at fourteen."

"I wasn't difficult. I was delightful."

"You told your mother you were joining a band and moving to London."

"That was ambitious, not difficult. And I didn’t actually do it. Well, I joined a band. But I didn’t move to London. Not then, anyway."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "So, what do you think we should do?"

"Give her space, I suppose. She's pushing against everything. The more I try to pull her close, the harder she pushes."

"That's very mature of you."

"I'm a very mature person."

"You ate ice cream for dinner three times last week."

"That was meal planning. Dairy, sugar, cone. Very balanced."

Shepherd was quiet for a moment. "What if she came to stay with me for a while?"

Iona's chest tightened. "What?"

"Just for a few weeks. A change of scenery. Sometimes teenagers need a different parent for a bit." He watched her face. "It might give her room to breathe."

Mo, not in the next room. Mo, waking up somewhere else. Even knowing he was trying to help, it broke something in her chest.

"I don't know," she said, and her voice came out smaller than she intended.

"Think about it. No pressure. I’m not making demands, just a suggestion." He picked up his wineglass. "It would give you space too."

She glared at him. "Space for what?"

The look he gave her was knowing and kind and slightly amused. "Space for you and Maeve to work out whatever it is you need to work out."