Page 44 of Just My Ex

She stares me down, and I feel her anger come through. But there’s also fear.

Licking her lips, she paces the floor. She spins to me, sadness overtaking her features, and drops the note back on the countertop.

“I brought up the past and I shouldn’t have,” she says. “I apologize about that. I’ll give you all the information you need in the morning because I need to go to bed.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Her stance widens. “Why are you thanking me?”

“For letting me try to help. For letting me feel like I can make a difference in your safety.” There’s so much more to say, but now is not the time. I gather my things.

“Deadbolt the door when I leave,” I say. “Don’t answer it unless it’s me.” I reach the door. “And contact me for any reason. I’ll be close by.”

There’s a beat when I reach the door, a pause that’s silent, yet louder than D.C. traffic during rush hour.

Her voice is soft:

“Wait. Henry? Will you stay?”

Chapter 16

Quinn

I asked my ex-husband to stay last night.

Not like that.

He slept on the couch, and I slept in the massive bed with Navie. While she kicked me and rolled over on top of me and drooled on my elbow all night long.

Still, I managed to sleep pretty well, which is more than I can say about the last few nights.

Navie stumbles out of the bedroom when it just starts getting light outside. I follow her, reluctantly, remembering halfway to the door that Henry is just on the other side, and I probably look like death with my bedhead.

We Delfinis have some impressive bedhead.

I try to gussy myself up in the five seconds I have, managing to get my pinky ring stuck in the hair I was trying to smooth down. I extricate it, losing several strands in the process, right as he sits up from the couch.

Praises be. It’s sleep-worn Henry, in a plain T-shirt and lightly striped pajama pants.

This used to be one of my favorite versions of the man.

Navie runs to him and jumps up onto the sofa bed. “Cars again, Daddy?”

He blows raspberries on her cheeks. “Already? You just woke up. Don’t you think the cars are still asleep in their garage?"

She hops off his lap, sneaks over to the dollhouse and peers inside. “I think they’re awake,” she whispers loudly.

Henry drags himself up off the sofa bed, his T-shirt bunched up just enough that I see the edge of his hip bone a moment before he adjusts his clothing.

It’s not fair, you know. To have to see him like this, raw and real. Almost vulnerable.

The sight of his bare skin sends me back in time—precisely where I can’t go.

I turn away. “I’ll figure out some breakfast. I think Sebastian was kind enough to put a few things in the fridge and cupboards.” I open the refrigerator. “You guys hang out and I’ll fry some eggs. Or do you want them scrambled? Hard-boiled?”

If I keep talking about food maybe I can remove the sight of Henry’s hipbone from my mind.

He’s sitting cross-legged on the living room floor as Navie dumps cars into his lap. “Why don’t you go back to bed, Quinn,” he says. “There’s no reason we both have to be up this early. Navie and I will make some breakfast a little later, right, Navie?”

---