Marshall nods. “Yeah. He’s in there, too,” he says, whispering. “We didn’t mention you were coming.”

“Okay.” I set Emmy’s diaper bag down and head for the kitchen. I see Ryle and Allysa’s mother sitting with Rylee in the living room when I pass by. I wave at her, and she smiles, but I don’t stop to chat. I go in search of Allysa.

When I walk through the kitchen door, I find Ryle leaning over the bar, chatting casually with Allysa, but as soon as he makes eye contact with me, his spine stiffens and he stands up straight.

I don’t react at all. I don’t want Ryle to think he holds any sort of control over me anymore.

Allysa has been expecting me. She acknowledges me with a nod and then she closes the lasagna in the oven. “Perfect timing.” She drops the pot holders on the counter and points at the table. “We have forty-five minutes until it’s ready,” she says, guiding both Ryle and me toward the table.

“What is this?” Ryle asks, looking back and forth between the two of us.

“Just a conversation,” Allysa says, urging him to take a seat. Ryle rolls his eyes but reluctantly takes a seat across from both Allysa and me. He leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. Allysa looks over at me, giving me the floor.

I’m not sure why I’m not scared right now. Maybe Atlas already having had a conversation with Ryle has put most of my concerns to rest. Having Allysa and Marshall in the apartment with us also feels like a layer of protection. And Ryle’s mother, even though she has no clue what’s about to transpire. Ryle keeps his behavior in check when his mother is around, so I’m grateful for her presence.

Whatever is giving me strength right now, I don’t sit and question it. I take advantage of it. “You asked yesterday if I spoke to my lawyer,” I say to Ryle. “I did. She had some suggestions.”

Ryle chews on his bottom lip for a few seconds. Then he lifts a brow, indicating he’s listening.

“I want you to undergo anger management.”

As soon as the words come out of my mouth, Ryle laughs. He stands up, prepared to push in his chair and end this conversation, but as soon as he does, Allysa says, “Sit down, please.”

Ryle looks at her, and then me, and then back at her. Several seconds pass as he takes in what’s happening. It’s apparent he feels deceived right now, but I’m not here to give him empathy, and neither is his sister.

Ryle loves and respects Allysa, so he eventually returns to his seat, despite his current anger.

“While you’re undergoing anger management, I would prefer for your visits with Emerson to take place here, or somewhere Marshall or Allysa are present.”

Ryle swings his eyes to Allysa, and the look of betrayal he shoots her would have given me chills at one point in our past, but right now that look does nothing to me.