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Fudge. Is he right? Probably. “What if she doesn’t like men when she grows up?”

I’m aware it’s a stupid question even before Mike rolls his eyes and then stops himself. Sometimes I can get wrapped up in details.

All Mike says, though, is “Fine. I’ll make it gender neutral. By the way—” He points to a folded-up step stool I got for Ella to help her reach things when she was younger. “—something’s wrong with that thing. Feels unstable. Think it’s missing a screw.”

“I’ll take a look later,” I say, bristling at his tone. When he tells me what to do in the confines of my bedroom I don’t mind so much, but right now? It’s been a long night, that’s all.

After giving Ella a kiss on the cheek to say hello, I make my way to the shower. My suit lands in a pile on the floor, even though I know I’ll regret it later. If I hung the damn thing up, maybe I could get away with fewer dry-cleaning bills.

But I’m always too eager to get out of these clothes. They make my skin crawl.

The water in this building isn’t great, but I turn it as hot as I can manage. Then I grab a washcloth and Ella’s “Tropical Blast” bodywash, and I scrub. And scrub.

Until my flesh turns red from the heat and the friction and I can feel human again. I listen carefully for sounds outside the door. Last thing I want is for Ella to see me like this.

Every day, this job chips away at another part of me. Six years is a long, dangerous time. I don’t know when I can quit, but it’s not yet. And it’s worth it, really. Anything in the world is worth it to ensure I can give Ella everything she needs. School tuition, ballet costumes, whatever.

The trouble is, I can’t see into the future. What happens next? How do I get out of here?

Mike’s right. I should make a plan.

The sight that greeted me when I walked in, Michael parenting Ella in a way I never even thought of, it reminds me of how much I still need him. How effed I’d be if he left us on our own.

And believe me, I’ve thought about it. Leaving Belle Argo. Leaving this entire life.

I ended up here because Billie was in school here. Her family was here. I stayed because… I don’t know.

At first, leaving felt too hard. And then? It felt impossible. Even though I know that Mike and his anger, Brennan and his sleaze, they weren’t exactly a stellar support system. Still. What else would I have done? Anywhere else I went, I’d be alone.

The shower ends when the dizziness hits, a sure sign I’ve stayed too long. The steam keeps me from having to look at myself in the mirror when I get out, and I like it that way.

After I’ve wrapped a towel around my waist and grabbed my lifeless suit off the floor, I open the door to find Michael standing there in the hallway.

“Where’s Ella?”

“Eating her pancakes. What the hell are you doing?”

“Language.”

“I turned on the ‘It’s Raining Waffles’ song. She can’t hear us for the next two and a half minutes.” He scans me up and down. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” It kills me that he knows me this well.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Dean.”

Pushing past him, I grumble, “I’m not playing.”

“You want to try that again?”

This isn’t a conversation I want to have. Not at all, especially with him. After tossing my dirty suit on a chair in the corner, I set about finding some pajamas in my dresser drawer. “Can you walk Ella to school? I need some sleep.”

“Sure.” He says nothing else, but he also doesn’t leave.

Finally, I turn to face his judgment. “What?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Stop that shit.”

“Language.” When I try to swallow I find my throat is fighting me. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”