Well. Maybe not this exact arrangement. I’d still like my key returned to me.

I’m about to take another bite of noodles when I hear a muffled ping come from my purse across the table. I drop my fork and quickly reach for my phone before Ryle does. Not that he would read my texts, but the last thing I want right now is for him to even try to be polite by handing me my phone. He might see that the text is from Atlas, and I’m not prepared for the storm that would bring.

The text isn’t from Atlas, though. It’s from my mother. She’s sending pics of Emmy she took earlier this week. I set the phone down and pick up my fork, but Ryle is staring at me.

“It was my mother,” I say. I don’t know why I even say that. I don’t owe him an explanation, but I don’t like the way he’s staring at me.

“Who were you hoping it would be? You practically lunged across the table for your phone.”

“No one.” I take a drink. He’s still staring. I have no idea how well Ryle can read me, but it looks like he knows I’m lying.

He spins his fork in his noodles and looks down at his plate with a hardened jaw. “Are you seeing someone?” There’s an edge to his voice now.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

“Not saying it is my business. Just having a casual conversation.”

I don’t respond to that because it’s a lie. Any recently divorced husband asking his ex-wife if she’s seeing someone is making anything but casual conversation.

“I do think we need to have a more serious conversation at some point about dating,” he says. “Before either of us brings other people around Emerson. Maybe lay some ground rules.”

I nod. “I think we need to lay ground rules for a lot more than just that.”

His eyes narrow. “Like what?”

“Your access to my apartment.” I swallow. “I’d like my key back.”

Ryle stares stoically before he responds. Then he wipes his mouth and says, “I can’t put my daughter to bed?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“You know my schedule is crazy, Lily. I hardly get to see her as it is.”

“I’m not saying I want you to see her any less. I just want my key back. I value my privacy.”

Ryle’s expression is tight. He’s upset with me. I knew he would be, but he’s making this into more than it is. It has nothing to do with how much I want him to see Emmy. I just don’t want him having easy access to my apartment. I moved out and divorced him for a reason.

It’s not going to be a huge change, but it’s one that needs to happen, or we’ll be stuck in this unhealthy routine forever.

“I’ll just start keeping her overnight, then.” He says it with such conviction while eyeing me for a reaction. I know he can feel the discomfort I’m suddenly drowning in.