“You didn’t use a car seat?”
“No. Of course I did.” I rinse off the fork and put it in the dishwasher. “I just couldn’t figure out the stupid harness system. It’s like it was too loose, and then I tried to tighten it and Romeo said it was too tight. And just when I thought I had shit figured out, I realized there was like … a strap with a metal part at the end that needed to go somewhere, but hell if I knew where. So I tried again, and all metal parts were stuck in some sort of latch place which is good, right? But things were too loose, so I found some duct tape in Eli’s garage, and I taped together the loose straps until I felt confident that everything was secure and tight.”
“Oh my god …” Mom covers her mouth. She laughs so hard she snorts. “Dorothy … oh my god. You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t duct tape that man’s son to his seat.”
“Not Roman. I taped the straps. And it was a bitch to get that tape off there when we arrived at the market.”
She wipes tears from her eyes. “What about going back home? The tape couldn’t have been as sticky.”
I roll my eyes. “Duh, I took the whole roll with me.” I glance at my watch. “I need to brush my teeth and go.”
“I love you. I just really love you.” She continues to laugh.
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”
* * *
Elijah
“We need to talk.” Julie stands at the doorway to my office, dressed in a knee-length skirt, a white blouse revealing a bit of her new cleavage, black heels that make her legs look ten miles long, and a white lab coat. She’s also wearing that same look she wore the day she asked for a divorce.
I close my laptop and lean back in my desk chair. “So talk.”
She steps inside my office and shuts the door behind her before taking a seat on the other side of my desk. “I live with this guilt from leaving you. And when we got divorced, I swore to myself that I’d never be petty over little issues with Roman. So I don’t want to come across like I’m trying to cause trouble. I’m not. I just had a bad feeling in my stomach yesterday when I saw your friend, Dorothy, with Roman at the market. I wasn’t trying to be confrontational at all. I simply asked about your whereabouts. I honestly assumed you were there. It was just really disturbing that she seemed so ignorant on the subject. My mind went into this mama bear protective mode, and I could imagine her turning her back on him for two seconds and having no clue where he was either.”
“Jules …”
“Just …” She holds up her hand. “Please hear me out.” Taking a deep breath, she meets my scrutinizing gaze. “It could happen to you. It could happen to me. Responsible people have bad things happen to their children. But we navigate this world with a fierce, protective love for him. And I know your family and my family share that love too. You know I hate that you send him to daycare where the people taking care of him do so because they are getting paid, not because they love him with their whole being. But at least he’s in one spot. And there are rules and security. But some girl that you’ve known for two seconds should not be allowed to gallivant around the city with our child. And I don’t care if it makes me sound like a cold, untrusting bitch. What you think or anyone else thinks doesn’t matter to me. Roman is my only concern here.”
“Are you done?”
“No. I want a legal agreement that lists the people who are allowed to be unsupervised with Roman. And the list has to be mutually agreeable for every name on it.”
I grunt a laugh. “And you don’t want Dorothy on that list.”
“Are you marrying her?”
“For god’s sake, Jules. Marrying someone doesn’t magically make them more trustworthy.”
“Uh …” she laughs. “I disagree. I’d like to believe that neither one of us would marry someone unless we completely trusted them with Roman.”
“Well, I completely trust Dorothy.” I hate the lie. I mostly trust her. I feel pretty fucking guilty for not being able to completely trust her, but I sure as hell won’t let Julie see an ounce of my doubt. It doesn’t mean I’m planning on leaving Roman with Dorothy again anytime soon. But I want the decision to be mine, not something mutually agreed upon between Julie, me, and our lawyers.
“So you know everything about her? What’s her favorite color? What hospital was she born in? What’s her mother’s maiden name? What school did she attend? Childhood pets? Does she have any cavities? What medications does she take?”