Alex reddens. “I did not.”
“You did so! I told you I thought she was cute. Then you got all moody and took the picture down, hid it somewhere. Weirdo.”
Alex gestures from me to her, bemused. “Romina, this is Kelsey. Miles’s mom.”
Kelsey’s husband doesn’t have to introduce himself as her husband when he appears—I know straightaway, because they’re the kind of couple who look like a perfect pair. Both are heavily tattooed, from their knuckles all the way up to their necks. He’s in a ribbed white tank that sticks to his amazing physique as if it’s been painted on. He’s got shiny black hair that cascades down his back, light brown skin, and either his left eyebrow has a scar in it where hair no longer grows or he intentionally shaves a line through it, but the effect is quite something. Kelsey pats his chest. “José, this is Romina. Alex used to have her picture on his fridge! He’s embarrassed about it.”
José and I nod hello.
Kelsey’s eyes dart from mine to Alex’s and back again. “You look kinda freaked out,” she observes.
Alex tries to move closer to me, but Miles is still hugging his waist, so he arranges Miles’s feet on top of his own and awkwardly side-shuffles over. Miles buries his face in Alex’s side so that he won’t have to look at me. “We recently reconnected,” Alex tells her. I try very hard not to think about all the dexterous ways we connected. I am conscious of what my face is doing, how it keeps slipping into a deer-in-the-headlights stuporwhen I need for it to remain blank until I figure out how I feel. To me, Alex explains, “She and I were together a few years ago.”
Kelsey slaps a hand over her chest. “Nottogether, together. We weren’t even exclusive.”
My mouth is dry. I try to nod along, unsure how to participate in this conversation. “Oh. Okay.”
She hoots at the look on my face. “Sometimes, life goesboom! And you’ve got a Miles. And you didn’t even know youwanteda Miles, but then you find out, and it’s like, wow. I kinda really want this Miles.” She tousles her son’s hair.
José presses his lips to her shoulder, holding back a laugh. Kelsey pats his head. “He thinks I overshare. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I manage, somewhat faint.
Alex seizes my waist, yanking me close to his side. I can feel the low vibrations of his contained laughter.
“Okay, so.” Kelsey squints, aiming two fingers at us. “Alex, I trust you, so I don’t know whatthisis but I know you’re gonna do what’s best for Miles. And, Romina? It was nice meeting you in person, sweetie.” She hugs me. “I’m a hugger,” she explains happily, squeezing.
“Yeah, you are,” I rasp. “You’re so strong.”
She steps away, curling a bicep. “I don’t wanna be one of those people who tells everybody their Peloton changed their life, but legit, Peloton changed my life.”
“It’s her whole personality now,” José adds.
“We better get going, but thanks for the extra day,” Kelsey tells Alex, trying to sneak toward the exit without Miles noticing. Miles has unburied his face and is watching the other kids curiously but hasn’t yet detached from Alex’s leg. “Didn’t think you’d want Bert here, too much chaos, so we’ll bring him nexttime. We got these awesome Dole whip meringues for you, though. Left ’em on that table over there!”
“I’m allergic to pineapple,” Alex replies, half a second before I can.
“Whoops, my bad. You want them, Romina?”
“I’d rather she didn’t.” Alex slants her a meaningful look.
Her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh! Right. Yeah, don’t eat those.” Kelsey waves goodbye to us in the same way I’ve seen moms at daycare wave, imitating their toddlers—four fingers together, tapping their palms,bye-bye!, while holding another finger to her lips. We both assess Miles, who’s shuffling cautiously toward the herd of children. Then she tiptoes away in her chunky combat boots, José following behind.
Alex turns to me. “I have him every Saturday and Sunday, but they took a vacation to Disney World, so it was either he went to the wedding rehearsal or he got an extra day at Disney.”
“Yep,” I say, bobbing my head. A more intelligent response cannot possibly be expected from me right now.
“Wedding rehearsals are boring when you’re four. Figured he’d have more fun on tiny roller coasters.”
“Yep.”
He beams winningly. “I have a son.”
I sit down. “So I have learned.”
Miles doesn’t look back at him; a boy is showing him a picture of a turd he drew (I’m pretty sure they’re all drawing turds—what a fun surprise that will be for Daniel and Kristin) and Miles is showing his tablet to the boy, so Alex is basically a piece of furniture now.
Who is watching my reaction closely.
