Bailey gave her a look that said,“Do not embarrass me, Mom.”
“Sorry, okay. Umm, your dad is picking you up at noon for his date, so I don’t know if that works great.”
“I don’t sleep in on Saturdays. We always make pancakes, but we don’t have to make those so I could come early.” Amaya said.
Aelin was about to say that Bailey never woke up before ten when her daughter blurted, “Me, too. Mom, can Amaya come over at nine?” Her pupils dilated until she resembled an anime cat.
Aelin looked up at Ryan. “I—I don’t even know what to do with this.”
Ryan shoved his phone back into his pocket. "I can bring Amaya over Saturday at nine. I can pick her up at eleven thirty. Or right at noon if that’s helpful.” He raised an eyebrow, and Aelin’s mouth suddenly felt like it had been swabbed with gauze.
She straightened. “Eleven thirty would be great.”
Ryan nodded. “Okay, then. Saturday.”
Bailey jumped up and down, pulling on Aelin’s arm and dragging her into the house.
“We have to clean up the cards.” Aelin laughed, pulling her hand free and crouching to pick up their game. Bailey helped, and by the time they walked inside, Ryan’s car was gone from the street. “This only happens Saturday if you do your chores.”
“I know!” Bailey ran up the stairs, her hair flying behind her.
“I’m talking washroom, bedroom, everything.”
“Iknow, Mom!”
Aelin shook her head and retrieved Bailey’s backpack from the porch. She set it on the bench in the entryway, then tidiedtheir shoes and walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t until she pulled out the shredded chicken and cilantro from the fridge that she noticed the sticky note on the counter.
Chapter
Five
Ryan saton the couch with his mother-in-law, Laura, the fabric soft against his palms. The facility his wife, Kara, lived in now was a clash of worlds—one side of the building sterile and clinical, her personal space a shrine to a life that felt increasingly distant.
They'd tried to soften the edges with family photos and Kara's favourite books, but the hospital smell seemed to be rubbed into the carpet. At least there were a couple of Amaya's drawings taped to the side of the dresser, and a comforter and throw pillows that had come straight from their bedroom.
The sound of a nurse's footsteps echoed down the hall, and he gripped the armrest. He shouldn’t hate coming here. He should be glad to see his wife, to see Kara interacting with Amaya. But ever since his mother-in-law Laura texted, his stomach had been churning.
He was a husband. A father. This should be him caring for her, not a rotation of strangers in scrubs. Kara needed professional care, round-the-clock attention, and they’d all agreed it wasn’t possible for him to provide that. Not with work. Not with Amaya.
All of that was true, and yet every time he saw her here, it felt like abandonment.
Kara and Amaya sat at a small table, a checkers board between them. Kara's brow furrowed as she concentrated on the game, her fingers hovering over a piece. Amaya grinned and made her move, hopping one of Kara's pieces to the side of the board.
Kara's eyes flicked over the board, and Ryan tensed. He knew the signs by heart. How her face would go blank. How she’d blink too many times. He moved to the edge of his seat.
Kara’s movements became more agitated, her fingers twitching as she tried to figure out her next move. "That's not fair," she muttered.
Amaya looked up, her eyes flicking to Ryan’s. "What's not fair?"
Ryan felt like a belt was being cinched around his ribs. “Hey, why don’t we?—”
"You skipped over my checker. You can't do that." Kara's hand hovered over one of her pieces.
Amaya frowned. "I didn't skip it, I jumped it. That's how you play the game."
Ryan stood, and Laura moved to put her hands on Kara’s shoulders.
"No, it's not!" Kara pushed her mother’s hands away as her voice went up an octave. "You're cheating!"
