“All right.” She trails after me as I open the door to the patio. “Do you spend all your time with children, Ethan? That can’t be healthy for you. I mean, raising kids isn’t exactly a science.”


    I’ve never been an angry man, nor a violent one. Never had the inclination, but now… Lyra can bring it out so easily with dismissivements like that about our children.


    “Mommy! Look at our treehouse!” Haven calls, and Lyra dutifully heads across thewn, pausing momentarily in dismay as her high heels sink into the grass.


    It feels like an eternityter when it’s finally time for her to leave. The girls ask her when she’ll be back, to which she says as soon as I can, a tant lie. It could be tomorrow or six months from now, knowing how Lyra is. It might make me a horrible person, but I almost wish it was ten years. A chance for the girls to grow up without having their hopes crushed over and over again.


    “I’ll follow you to your car,” I murmur.


    Lyra frowns. She hasn’t called her cab yet-waiting curbside won’t appeal to her. But I open the front door and motion her out. Maria closes it behind me with soft murmurs to the girls.


    “Another lecture?” Lyra asks.


    I shut the gate behind us. “No, just a reminder. You’re their mother. Visit whenever, but give us enough time to prepare in advance and most of all, stick to what you’ve said.”


    She rolls her eyes. “Yes, sir.”N?velD(ram)a.?rg owns this content.


    I grit my teeth. “Honestly, though, why do you even show up? You got the money. You have no responsibilities. Either be a mother or fully walk away. This in-between state isn’t helping anyone.”


    Lyra looks past me. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll actually answer me-if I’ll finally get some form of understanding into the woman who’d once set out to ruin my life.


    “They’re my kids too,” she finally says. “Even if I’m not-ah. We’ve gotpany.”


    I turn to follow her gaze, and damn it, but it’s Be. She stops a few feet away and nces between us. There’s a Tupperware box of brownies in her arms.


    “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”


    “You’re not. Be, this is Lyra, my ex-wife. Lyra, this is Be. She’s the Gardners’ niece, staying next door for the summer.”


    Lyra’s face clears. “My children have just told me about you. You were at the hospital with Haven?”


    “Yes I was.” Be nces toward me again. “She was very brave.”


    “Oh, I’m certain of that. She has good genes.” Lyra’s smile turns sharp. “How nice of you to swing by to give the girls brownies.”


    Be doesn’t wither under my ex-wife’s stare. She smiles blithely back instead, and in that instance, the difference between them couldn’t be clearer to me if it had been written above their heads. A brightly decorated viper in the bushpared to a warm, inviting hearth fire.


    “The kids really like them,” Be says warmly. “Well, it was great to meet you.”


    “Oh, likewise.” A ck car pulls to a smooth stop next to us, and Lyra turns to press a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll see you soon,” she tells me, like we’re the best of friends.


    “All right.” I doubt it.


    “Goodbye, Be.”


    “Bye.”


    Lyra’s cab drives off, and Be and I watch it disappear. The trees on either side of the street rustle slightly in the passing wind, as if they’re sighing in relief.


    “I’m sorry,” Be says. “I thought she came yesterday.”


    “That was the n, but ns have never mattered much to her. Don’t worry about it.” I reach for the box of brownies. “I could really use one of these right now.”


    She smiles crookedly. “I sort of figured you would.”


    “You know me that well already?”


    “I’m trying to.” She opens the lid for me and I fish one out. “How are the girls?”


    “Happy, for now. Evie doesn’t really have any understanding of why it’s odd that a mother would go away for so long. Haven… she’s more confused.”


    “Understandable.” Be puts a hand on my arm, and God help me, but I lean into her touch. I’m like a starved man when ites to it, and I doubt I’ll ever be sated. “How are you?”


    “In need of a ss of whiskey,” I say. “It’s hard to believe I was ever married to that woman.”


    Be nods, but her eyes burn with curiosity. Of course she wonders.


    “Come in?” I suggest.


    “I’d like that.” Her smile softens, and at the sight, something inside of me starts to as well.


    It’s a long time before we finally settle down on the patio, just her and I, the kids asleep and the evening air warm. The summer sunlight ys softly on her hair, draped like a shimmering wave of brown down her back.


    I’m here with her, and yet my mind can’t stop tracing the contours of the old wound with Lyra. Over and over the encounter ys. Was I too firm? Not firm enough?


    Be tucks her legs underneath herself. “I wish I knew what to say.”


    “About what?”


    “About today,” she replies. “You’re preupied.”


    “Right, I’m sorry.”


    “No, don’t be. I just want to be able to help you somehow, and I can’t.”


    I shake my head. “You are helping, just by being here. And your brownies, too-they certainly helped.”


    She smiles. “These were I’m-sorry-your-ex-wife-is-a-bitch brownies, so they’d better. The ones I made the first time were I’d-like-to-get-to-know-you brownies.”


    I snort. “That makes sense,” I say. “These were a bit saltier.”


    Be sticks out her tongue at me, and Iugh, moving closer to her. Putting an arm around her feels like the simplest thing in the world, and by far the simplest thing I’ve done today. She leans into my side, warm and true and somehow so easy. It makes it simple to say the words. “All right,” I murmur. “So you want the whole sordid tale?”


    “If you want to tell it,” she says.


    “I don’t, really. But it might make you think slightly better of me.”


    She looks up. “What do you mean?”