I sigh. “How long were you with Willow’s dad?”
Margot’s hands clench around the steering wheel as she squints through the windshield. I chastise myself. She hates talking about her ex, and I’m certain he did a number on her.
“He was around but not present.” She throws me a wobbly smile. “That won’t happen with Warren. The stars said so.”
“The stars?”
“Yes. I read your horoscope, and it mentioned new beginnings and trusting your gut. You’re a Libra too, so you’ll always seek harmony.”
Margot is perfect, except for her infatuation with astrology, crystals, and tarot. Not my thing.
“Layman’s terms: I’m a people pleaser.” I fix her with a look, and she rolls her eyes. “Warren is hard to read. I’m not sure how involved he wants to be or even how to manage a co-parenting relationship. He seemed grossly uncomfortable—nothing like the man at the fair—and something tells me he won’t be the one to initiate any bonding sessions. I’ll go insane if we’re cordial and only see each other during ante-natal appointments. I’m not built like that.”
She nods in agreement as the car slows to a stop at a red light. “You value genuine connections, so…why don’t you try being friends?”
“Friends?”
“Yeah. You’ve got roughly six months to get to knoweach other—and then the rest of your lives. It would make this a lot easier if you got along.”
I roll her advice around my head until we pull up outside my apartment. As I’m unclipping my seat belt, Margot grips my forearm. “Not to alarm you, but a hooded figure just dropped a parcel outside your door.”
I look through the passenger window and catch sight of a tall man before they disappear around the corner, leaving a large cardboard box on my doorstep. “Weird. I haven’t ordered anything.”
“Should I call the cops?” Worry lines her forehead.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” I climb out, and Margot glues herself to my back as I stroll toward the mysterious package. Nothing ticks when I kick it lightly. “It’s probably from my sister.”
“Or anthrax,” she whispers ominously.
“Okay, you need to lay off the conspiracy documentaries.No one is plotting my demise. But to be on the safe side, I think you should stay with me while I open it.”
Margot reluctantly follows me upstairs, where I place the package on my coffee table. Neither of us makes a move.
“It’s addressed to you,” she hisses and nudges me forward.
With one eye closed, I peel off the packing tape and open the box, revealing the far from lethal contents.
“It’s cereal. Like, a lot of it.” I laugh as I hold up two family-sized boxes of Cheerios. “I knew it was from Johanna. She’s teased me for weeks about my cravings.”
“Oh, she’s a good sister.” Margot beams and unfolds the greeting card. “Um, Harry, this isn’t from Johanna.”
I already have a fistful of cereal halfway to my mouth. “Who’s it from?”
She flips the card around, and the mini hoops drop to the floor.
This is a monthly subscription for cereal. Let me know if your cravings change.
Next delivery is in January.
Warren.
Thus adds another complicated layer to my baby daddy.
EIGHTEEN
WARREN
“You’ve obviously attended hundreds,if not thousands, of calls in your career. Are there any you still think about to this day?”
