“Holy shit!” We stared at each other until the car behind us honked. Evan raised a hand in apology to the other driver as he took off up the ramp onto the freeway. “Sorry about my language,” he said, and I smiled indulgently. Evan hardly ever cursed in front of me. He considered it “unseemly.”

“He didn’t even ask about her,” I said. “He probably doesn’t even know she’s a her, but I at least expected him to ask.”

“Then that’s just further proof that you were right to get away from him,” Evan said sagely. He was right. Of course, he was right. My brain knew that, but my vagina and nipples had yet to get the memo.

We arrived at our apartment building, and Evan handed off the keys to the valet before we headed upstairs. I knocked on the apartment door next to ours, and Jenna, a bright and bubbly fifteen-year-old, answered the door. “Hey, guys! Sorry to cut your evening short. Come on in.” Evan and I entered the apartment to find Carrie lying on the couch with a glass of ginger ale on the coffee table beside her.

“Hey, Care Bear,” I said, going over to pick up my daughter.

“Hi, Mommy. I threw up, and it was orange.” Her face shined with a sense of pride at her vomiting talents, and I smiled at her as I put my hand on her forehead.

“They had Cheeto puffs as a treat for cleaning up the princess castle,” Jenna said, “which probably accounts for the orange puke.”

Evan leaned over and kissed Carrie’s forehead, and she held out her arms for him. “Are you okay, darling girl?” he asked as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and nodded. He looked at Jenna. “Did she make a mess?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. She’s a big girl and made it to the toilet in time. Didn’t you, Carrie?”

My little girl grinned happily and said, “I ran really fast when I felt it in my throat.” She looked back at Evan and said, “It was reeeeeeally orange.”

Evan grinned at her and said, “It sounds just lovely. Much better than green vomit, huh?”

“Ick!” Carrie said. “That woulda been totally grody.”

“Totally,” Evan agreed, rubbing her back gently. “You seem to be feeling okay now.”

“I do, but Jenna made me lay on the couch and drink ginger ale till you got here.”

“Well, Jenna’s a smart girl,” I said. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

Evan pulled out his phone and sent Jenna some money on Venmo. He winked at her. “I sent you an extra twenty dollars for being on puke duty.”

Jenna tilted her head sweetly. “You didn’t have to do that, Mr. Cavanaugh. You had to cut your evening short, so you didn’t even have to pay me what you regularly do.”