“They weren’t . . . separated or something? Recently, I mean.” I force a laugh. “I’m so silly. I thought she was single and would’ve felt so bad not getting enough tickets!”

She waves a hand. “You’re just confused because her husband works out of town a few days a week.” She straightens as if realizing this was a poor choice of information to share with a suspicious stranger. “You should probably get going before someone thinks you’re up to no good. Just find her during her office hours, and don’t bother her at home.”

“Right. You’re absolutely right, of course. Thank you so much.”

I’ve been sleeping with a married man. And they’re not just married. They’re married and have a child together. It’s unreal. My brain refuses to process it. I feel like I’m watching a TV show or having a nightmare. Every time I try to process what I’ve done, my mind pushes it away. That’s not me. I wouldn’t do that.

But I have. And I can’t take it back.

I leave the neighborhood and pull into the fueling station just before the interstate. I throw the car in park, put my head on the steering wheel, and cry.

Easton

“What kind of man goes house-hunting with his ex?” Maven asks, horror all over that pretty face women love. I met him in downtown Chicago this morning for brunch, a much-needed reprieve from Scarlett and her eccentric housing tastes.

I shrug. “A man who wants his kid to be within a few hours of her mom?”

“Better man than me,” he mutters. “She planning to live in Chicago full-time?”

“Nah, she’s planning to split her time between Chicago and L.A. But who knows what will end up happening? You know Scarlett.”

“That I do,” he says, grabbing his menu.

I follow my buddy’s lead and try to figure out what I want for breakfast. The place is nice, but one look at all the fancy “waffle sundaes” on the menu is a blow to the gut. Shit like that makes me miss my daughter even more intensely. I talked to her last night, and she’s doing great. It’s not like she’s unaccustomed to me being away, but I’m ready for us to settle into our life in Jackson Harbor and for time apart to become the exception.

“You can bring Abi down here next month,” Maven says, reading my damn mind. He and I played together on the Demons for three years before he was traded to Chicago two years ago. He was my favorite receiver, and when they replaced him, I felt like I was being asked to win games without one of my arms.