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“Do you think it’s safe for you to leave?” Lainey asks Eden.
“That’s dicey. He already knocked on the door once, and you know he’ll probably be waiting for it to open again, since you just got in.”
“Once you leave, he’ll think the coast is clear.”
“Exactly.”
“Someone wanna fill me in on what’s going on?”
Lainey says, “Nothing,” and Eden says, “Walter.” I’m inclined to believe Eden over Lainey in this case, especially with the look she shoots at Eden.
Eden shrugs and mouths, “Sorry.”
“Is this the guy you were talking to in the lobby?”
Lainey blows out a breath. “Yes.”
“He lives right across the hall from you?” This is not good. Not for me, anyway. As much as he might not look like competition, he clearly has designs on Lainey.
“Yes.”
“What does he do, stand at his door with his eye pressed against the peephole, waiting for you to come home every night? Am I the only one who finds this a little fucking creepy?”
“His living room is right by the door, and the walls are thin.”
“Or maybe he’s just a creepy-ass stalker. I don’t like this.”
Lainey crosses her arms over her chest. “Walter is not creepy or a stalker. He’s nice, and helpful, and kind.”
“So why are you worried about him hearing Eden leave?”
Lainey rubs her temple and gives me a pointed look. “Because he saw me with you, and I’m sure he has questions. I think I have enough going on without having to deal with Walter tonight.”
I arch a brow. “I can deal with Walter.”
“Absolutely not,” Lainey snaps.
“I thought it wasn’t serious.” It better not be serious. The idea incites panic, because if she’s actually into Walter, that means I’m going to have to share my son with some other guy—and I’m not sure I’m cool with that. At all.
Lainey shoots Eden a look. “It’s not . . . it’s complicated, especially with you being here. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and I’m going to have to explain what’s going on, and I’d like to do that without an audience.”
“Should I go? Or . . .” Eden thumbs over her shoulder toward the door and looks between me and Lainey.
Lainey sighs and nods. “Sorry. Yes—thank you so much for watching Kody.”
She hugs her friend, who gives me a look I can’t decipher. I hang back, half in the kitchen, half in the living room, while they whisper talk and Eden puts her shoes on.
The apartment is small but cozy and functional. The walls are a generic cream color and bare, but there are framed photos on the side table beside the gray couch. A basket of baby toys is tucked under it, and a blue blanket is spread out on the floor in front of it. I wonder how long she’s lived here.
Lainey’s expression is set in a cringe as she carefully unlocks and opens the door, ushering Eden out. She doesn’t even have the door closed all the way before there’s a soft knock. She looks over her shoulder at me and makes a waving motion.
I mouth, “Really?” Because clearly she wants me to hide.
I don’t see the point, because he probably already knows I’m here, but she mouths, “Please,” so I do what she wants. For now.
I can hear the low tones of a male voice and Lainey’s soft responses but not the content of their brief conversation. Less than a minute later, the door clicks shut. I step out from my hiding place to find Lainey standing there with her hand still on the doorknob and her fingers at her mouth.
“You okay?” I ask.
She closes her eyes and exhales an unsteady breath, but she nods all the same.
I’m at a loss as to what I should do. I want to offer her some kind of comfort, but I don’t know if it’s at all welcome—or if it’s even appropriate. I decide the situation warrants more than me being silent on the other side of the room.
I cross over to her. “Do you need some safety cuddles?”
She looks up at me, eyes watery, chin trembling.
I open my arms, and after a few uncertain seconds she steps into me, gripping my shirt while she buries her face against my chest. I wrap her up in a hug and absorb the feeling of being close to her like this again, of the way she still seems to fit with me. I drop my head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. Everything about us just got a shit-ton more complicated, and I’m sure she’s feeling the hard truth of this new reality.
“Is he upset?” I almost choke on the words but manage to get them out without sounding like a dick.
She releases my shirt and steps out of my embrace, smoothing out the fabric with her palms. “He’s confused and concerned. He’s been a good friend.”
