Grace was five when they finally split. Alana has primary custody, but in the summer, Peter regularly takes Grace during the week, like today, in addition to his regular weekends, so he can spend more time with her. He and Alana are polite to each other. Sometimes they even open presents together at Christmas, as if they were still a family.

He gives Alana a hug. She opens the trunk so he can fetch Grace’s stuff. He takes it to his front door and throws it inside. “Grace, honey, get into my car. We’re meeting people for an early dinner and we’re running late,” he says. He checks his Omega again.

Then Candace emerges from the house wearing only a bra and her jeans, carrying two different blouses. She holds them up, making sure that Alana sees the implants and the abs that look like they’ve been outlined with a Sharpie.

“Peter, I can’t decide,” she says. “Which do you like best?”

Candace isn’t a bad person, Alana reminds herself. She’s insecure, and not above reminding Alana that Peter basically goes to bed with a clip from Pornhub every night. Candace isn’t Peter’s first actress/model/whatever. She probably won’t be the last.

And Alana could kick her bony little ass without breathing hard.

So she tries to find some sympathy. “They’ll both look beautiful on you, Candace.”

Candace smiles. “Ohmigod, Alana, thank you. That is so nice.” She holds both tops up to the light, flashing the goods one more time, twirls, and goes back inside.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Candace is taking a new spin class,” Peter says.

“It shows,” Alana says. She reminds him that Grace has fencing practice in the morning, followed by afternoon day camp, and then Summer Mathletes at the Tutoring Center on Monday morning.

“I thought she had karate on Monday.”

“That’s next Monday. It alternates every other week in the summer.”

He makes a face. “Remember when we were her age, and we’d ride our bikes all summer and hang out at the pool?”

“No,” Alana says. That’s not how she spent her childhood.

She goes to the BMW’s open window and pecks Grace on the cheek.

“See you Monday,” she says. “Love you.”

Grace is already wrapped up in her book again. “Uh-huh,” she says, eyes not leaving the page.

She tries not to be hurt by that and mostly succeeds. Kids grow up. If they feel safe, they don’t need to cling to you. She read it in a parenting book. She believes it. At least, she believes she’s done everything she can to keep her daughter safe.

Waving goodbye even though Grace isn’t watching, she gets back in her car and drives away.