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“Well, you could’ve maybe, I don’t know, changed the conversation to fucking Barbie dolls or something? Asked her to have a tea party? Talked about anything but myuterus.”
“We can’t have tea parties before bedtime,” heexplains.
“That fake caffeine is bad for children and their stuffed dogs after the streetlights come on,huh?”
“Smart-ass,” he mutters. “I don’t see why you’re pissed. You should be thanking me. This saves you from having to be there when I planned on tellingher.”
“At least one good thing to come out of this.” My heart stammers, and confusion flickers through me. Why am I upset that I wasn’t there? Why am I sad I didn’t get to see herreaction?
“You still pissed?” he asks a few secondslater.
“Not pissed.Shocked.”
“If it makes you feel better, I made her promise she wouldn’t tell anyone until I told her it wasokay.”
“I’m not sure how much I trust a promise coming from a six-year-old.”
“It helps when you add an extra birthday gift as a hush bribe. Some parenting advice to a mommy-to-be–nothing works better than bribery with extra dollclothes.”
“Bribery is okay, but lying is off the table? Makes sense. I’ll have to keep that in mind.”While mine is going fucking crazy rightnow.
“Now that I know you’re not pissed,just shocked,I need to ask for afavor.”
Seriously?This co-parenting relationship with benefits is gettingdemanding.
“Haven’t you thrown enough at metonight?”
“This one will be a funone.”
“Shoot.” I cross my fingers that it doesn’t involve any more pregnancyannouncements.
“Will you go shopping with me for Maven’s birthday present? Lauren planned on going with me, but she’s been pulling double shifts to save up for a house. I don’t want to put more stress onher.”
“Maybe you should askCindy.You can go shopping, and then she’ll feed you some fried chicken casserole.” I’m acting petty, but this is how I bring up my problems. I use my sarcasm to tell people how Ifeel.
“What?”
“The smiley chick who came over when we picked Maven up.”Is clarification needed?“The one who thought her fried chicken was the best thing since slicedbread.”
“Wow,” he says with alaugh.
“What?”.
“Surely, you don’t believe I’m hanging out withher?”
“No,” I stutter out. “I mean, I don’tknow.”
He sounds like he’s enjoying this now. “Would you be upset if Iwere?”
“Nope. Not at all. Eat her fried chicken. Get heart disease. It’s allgood.”
“Willow,” he draws out in warning, “would you be upset if Iwere?”
“Would I upset? Nope. Pissed? Yes. Will I have sex with you again if you are? Definitelynot.”
“I’m not hanging out with her, I swear. She came around and dropped off food when Lucy passed but hasn’t been around in months. Even then, it was nothing. I accepted the food, so my daughter wouldn’t starve until I got my shit together. When I managed to perfect grilled cheese, I put a stop toit.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
