I feel a little stirring of sympathy for a man who I once swore I would hate for the rest of my life and I don’t even know whether I should let myself feel it or stifle it completely.
“You should get a maid,” I tell him. I laughed at the idea when he mentioned it, because it just seemed so ridiculous, but if there’s no one but him and Riley at the house, and he’s having to work extra hours through the week to have a three-day weekend, then I can see the benefit.
“I can get my parents at least to help out with getting groceries and stuff,” Ethan says absently. “I mean, they have to go to the grocery store anyway, I can just give them money and have them take my list.”
“I could, too,” I point out. I don’t even know why I’m volunteering to get more involved than I’m meant to, but I reason to myself that making sure that Riley’s home is comfortable and well-stocked is just as much part of helping to raise her as actually spending time with her is.
“I thought you didn’t want to be too involved,” Ethan counters.
I shrug.
“I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be seeing you outside of taking care of Riley,” I say. It sounds cold to my ears, but I have to say it anyway. You can’t let your guard down. He still betrayed you. He still hooked up with your sister. No amount of pity for his current situation is enough to reverse what he did to me, what my sister did to me.
“Right,” Ethan says. I look at him, but there’s no hint of teasing in his voice, there’s no sign that he takes what I said anything other than completely seriously.
“Anyway, we should probably figure out what to do about doctors’ appointments and stuff,” I say, switching back to the safest possible topic, the little girl we’re both responsible for raising.
We talk more about the logistics of how two people living in separate towns and houses are going to raise a child together, and take turns eating our own food and helping Riley eat hers, and even as I’m leaving to go back to my apartment, to finish setting everything up to have my first day working from home on Tuesday, with my niece staying with me, I’m completely and totally confused about how to feel.
Chapter Thirteen
Ethan
I pull into the parking lot outside of Lara’s apartment building, barely awake, just alert enough to be able to drive safely. I drink a gulp of coffee and look around for a parking spot. The first full week of our new schedule is coming to a close, and I’m just happy that I’ll have three days with my little girl, and no work to worry about.
I find a spot relatively close to the entrance of the building and pull into it, looking to make sure it’s actually a guest spot. I got yelled at by one of the security guys the first time I parked in Lara’s lot. I put the car in park and glance in the back seat to make sure it’s clear for Riley’s car seat.
I finish my coffee, shut off the engine, and get out of the car. It’ll only take me about thirty minutes to get back to the house, and if I’m lucky, Lara is already feeding Riley. I’ll be able to get my daughter home, and she’ll get a nap, and then we can play for a while. It’ll be a nice, restful weekend after a damned stressful week.
It isn’t until I’m knocking on Lara’s door that it occurs to me to think about how weird it is that I’m at her place at all, or that twice this week Lara’s been to the house Alexis and I bought together when we got married. We’re obviously going to have to tighten the schedule. Yesterday I nearly ended up late for work because I just hadn’t figured on how much the morning traffic, combined with dropping Riley off at Lara’s place, would throw off my drive. But so far it looks like things are going to go more or less smoothly, however weird the whole situation is.
The door opens, and Lara is right there in front of me, her dark hair messy and her face a little tired-looking, but her eyes are bright, and I can’t help but notice that the front of her tank top is damp, and she doesn’t seem to be wearing anything underneath it. She pulls the sweater she’s got on over that to cover herself, and I look away, feeling ashamed.
“Riley’s just finishing breakfast,” Lara says quickly, letting me into her apartment. I follow her and see my daughter, seated in her high chair, banging on the tray in front of it. She has some yogurt smeared around her mouth, and I can’t help but smile.
“Looks like a good breakfast,” I say, sitting down.
“Can I get you something? A cup of coffee?” In spite of how awkward things are between us, there’s this weird kind of polite thing that both Lara and I seem to have decided to try without speaking of it. When she picked up Riley from my place I made sure she had coffee and something to eat, and the times I’ve come to pick up my daughter, whether it’s in the evening or in the morning, she’s offered me something.
“I just finished a cup, actually,” I say, picking up the spoon on my daughter’s high chair tray to help her feed herself.
“I’ve got some oatmeal if you’re hungry,” Lara says.
I shrug. “I’ll eat some,” I tell her.
