I cock my head to the side, waiting for her to finish that sentence. When she doesn’t, I say, “Scarlett might not like you being here, but since she’s currently living with Grant Holland, she doesn’t have much room to talk.”

Shay grimaces and looks away.

“You already knew.”

She shrugs. “I try not to pay attention to celebrity gossip. I don’t believe most of what they say.”

And rightly so. I’ve had some un-fucking-believable shit written about me since entering the league. But the recent round of media attention regarding Scarlett is at least partially true. Partially because there’s all sorts of speculation about our recent separation, and most of it involves me being cold, unfaithful, an ass, or all of the above. Nobody’s come close to the truth—that I married her because she was pregnant with my daughter and we were never really in love. Or that it gets lonely being married to someone who doesn’t love you—a feeling I’m as familiar with as Scarlett is.

“We’re separated.” I shrug as if it’s nothing. As if I didn’t spend years sacrificing everything to try to give my daughter the family I wanted for her, only to see it fall apart anyway.

“I’m sorry, Easton.” She swallows. “How’s your daughter? Abigail, right?”

I nod. “She’s amazing. Talks up a storm, sings all the time. But she’s going through this fussy phase where she never wants to eat, and I think she’s losing weight.” I shake my head. Abi has a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday. “I’m sure everything’s okay. She’s stubborn, and when she doesn’t want to eat, she doesn’t want to eat, but the protective father in me needs a doctor to tell me that.”

“That makes sense.” She shifts from one foot to the other. “I bet you’re an amazing dad.”

“I try. Most of it I’ve just had to figure out as I go.”

“As a girl who was raised by an amazing dad, I have to say it’s everything.” More tears spill down her cheeks, and I’m being torn apart.

I don’t know when I cupped her face in my hand, but I watch my thumb clear away a streak of tears. She came to me. “I’m glad you’re here.” My chest feels too tight. Fuck, I’ve missed her so much. “I’m so sorry about how I handled the pregnancy. I was trying to help Scarlett stay sober and generally freaking out about becoming a father. And—”

She presses a thumb to my lips. “Not tonight, okay? I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”

Right. She has enough to process.