“I wasn’t finished talking to you, Ethan.”
“Well, I’m finished,Dad,” I shoot back, spitting the word like it tastes bad.
As soon as I turn the corner toward my room, I nearly run straight into Alicia, standing outside her door.
Great.
“Were you and Daddy fighting again?” she asks in that small, worried voice.
I force a smile and stop in front of her. “Of course not, Buttercup. Just… guy stuff.”
“But you’re just a boy,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
I flick it lightly, earning an indignant glare that makes me laugh despite myself.
“You need to stop doing that. It’s annoying, and I’m not a child anymore.”
“I don’t see you saying that to Dad when he calls you ‘little princess,’” I tease.
Alicia crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “You’re still just a boy.”
“Would a boy have enough money to take you out for your favorite ice cream before dinner?”
She tries to hide it, but her eyes light up instantly. Alicia has been obsessed with ice cream for as long as I can remember.
I tell her to grab whatever she needs so we can head out, then check in with Mom. I need to get out of here, even if it’s just for a little while.
I find Mom in her room, sitting in the armchair with her laptop open on her lap. She’s staring past the screen, out the window, like she’s somewhere else entirely.
She probably doesn’t realize I notice how much Dad being gone all the time weighs on her.
When he got back from his trip, things were… different. For about a week. They even went out on a date that Friday. I stayed home with Alicia, still gaming with friends, when I heard their muffled laughter drifting down the hall. I cracked the door just enough to see him pinning her to the wall, kissing her, his hand on her hip.
I shut the door immediately.
I know Alicia and I weren’t born out of fairy tales, but no kid needs that burned into their brain.
Of course, it didn’t last. This week, everything’s back to normal.
I rest my hand on her shoulder. “Hey. I’m taking Alicia out for ice cream, okay?”
“Of course,” she says, smiling, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just don’t be long. And one scoop only. I’m ordering takeout tonight, so be back to choose.”
I kiss her cheek and turn toward the door, but she catches my arm.
“Have you decided what you want to do for your birthday?” she asks gently. “Are you sure you don’t want me to plan something with your friends? Maybe by the pool?”
The last thing I want is to add more to her plate. She’s already carrying enough. And honestly, parties aren’t my thing.
“A cake with you and Alicia is perfect.”
“And your father,” she adds.
I don’t even think before answering. “Sure, if he makes it home in time to see me blow out the candles.”
Before she can say anything else, Alicia comes into the room with a bag slung over her shoulder, gives Mom a quick kiss, and grabs my hand, pulling me downstairs.
We’re halfway to the door when Alicia spots Dad by the living room window, a glass of brandy in his hand. She goes to him immediately, her excitement obvious.
