parent, to Ainsley. If she has a problem with that…”
“What if she does though?”
I really hate thinking about what-if situations. They get us nowhere. I’ll start having a panic attack until I’m convinced my heart is giving out, then wind up with a two-hundred- and fifty-dollar copay for an emergency room visit that was never needed. I may have been there before after finding out about Danny… And then again after finding out about Ainsley.
“I’ll figure it out.” My voice is no more than an uncertain whisper that I force out. There’s nothing I can do but wait and see. Harris hearing me out is unlikely, but I’m always going to choose Ainsley before anything else. And if I have to file a formal complaint against her, then I’ll happily kiss my job, and placement, goodbye if it means her getting reprimanded. Nobody should have to fight for their kid to have a right to an education of their choosing just because somebody like Harris doesn’t want to deal with the extra steps.
The more I think about it, the angrier I get. But anger won’t get me anywhere either, so I tell myself to calm down and sip my juice. I still have one more day before facing the wench, which means one more day to formulate a backup plan. I quickly learn that night before bed that I don’t have one.
Jenna left in the early hours of the morning after falling asleep for a few hours on the couch watching some horrible reality dating show. I stayed up when one became two and two became three, feeling prickles of anxiety when I saw snow sticking to the roads and knowing Easton hadn’t gotten home. It’d rained earlier in the day and froze over when the temperatures dropped, leaving black ice everywhere.
When seven a.m. rolls around and Ainsley has a plate full of eggs in front of her, the sound of keys rattling outside has all the worry rippling through my body draining in a heartbeat. As soon as the door closes behind my roommate, I blow out a tiny breath and finish buttering Ains’s toast and putting it beside her plate.
East walks into the kitchen, probably hearing the commotion, and looks at me with tired eyes and messy hair. Bedhead. He has bedhead but wasn’t sleeping here.
Swallowing past the stupid lump in my throat, I offer him a small wave and turn back to the stove to prepare myself eggs. “I’m making breakfast if you want some,” I say in my best even voice, telling myself not to wonder where he was all night.
It’s none of my business.
“I’m good.”
He’s good. I nod with my back to him, not asking or offering anything else. No drink, no inquiry if his night was good. Something tells me it was, and I don’t need to know why, how, or because of whom. I just scramble another two eggs, put two more slices of toast into the toaster, and busy myself with the sizzle of the hot skillet.
He turns after a few moments, greeting Ainsley before making his way upstairs. I let my shoulders droop but refuse to let disappoint linger for long. We had no expectations when we started sleeping together, so I couldn’t get angry at him for spending the night at another woman’s house. It’s a waste of time to be bitter.
Long after Ainsley and I are finished eating and the kitchen it cleared, East comes back down in a pair of his signature black sweatpants and a black tee that hugs his body. His hair is wet, his eyes are brighter, and he walks past where Ainsley and I sit on the floor playing to plop down in the chair.
“How was the birthday party?” he asks after a while of silence.
“Good.”
“Cool.”
Good. Cool. Awesome. “Yep.”
My eyes cast upward when I feel him staring and I wish I hadn’t looked. He’s watching me carefully, his eyes slightly narrowed. It doesn’t last long thankfully. We break the contact, his eyes going to the TV where a cartoon plays, and mine to the doll clothes scattered in front of me as we change all of Ainsley’s Barbie’s wardrobes for what I presume is a fashion show.
I notice the snow picking up outside, blowing haphazardly in the strong wind that howls loudly. Staring at the large flakes hitting the windows, I ask, “Were the roads bad coming home?”
“They were cleared off.”
“Oh. Good.” I cringe at the choppy response but brush it off. I am