“Great,” Baker says. “You can be the Disneyland parents.” This is Debbie’s term. Her ex-husband, Jaybee, takes her kids only three weeks per year—to Martha’s Vineyard over the summer, to Aspen at Christmas, and to a different European city each spring. Baker considers the two very serious, accomplished women—people!—on his left. Sorry to say, they are no one’s idea of Disneyland parents.

And yet, this plan works for Baker. Because he is not moving to Cleveland.

“You should also know…” Anna says, and for the first time during this unpleasant and confusing dinner, she seems ill at ease.

“That I’m planning on getting pregnant,” Louisa finishes. She considers the yams and marshmallows on the end of her fork. “Using a sperm donor.”

The words sperm donor should never be uttered during dinner, Baker thinks. He has just lost his appetite.

Their server takes advantage of the pause in their conversation to whisk away their first-course dishes—Baker’s untouched—and set down the Homogenization of Mandingos (venison sausage with beets) for Baker and the Belly of the Beast (boar ribs) for the ladies. Women. People. Baker has some other words to describe them at this point, words that don’t fall in the category of “civilly discussing arrangements.”

“So Floyd will have a half brother or half sister, in a sense, and we obviously want them to have a relationship,” Anna says.

“Cohesive family unit,” Louisa says again. Those are her buzzwords, and it takes all of Baker’s willpower to keep from shouting at her that Anna, Baker, and Floyd are—were—the family unit. Louisa is the interloper. The homewrecker!

Baker reaches for his beer, which he’s been too distracted to drink. He takes a long sip, buying himself time. Anna has left herself wide open here.

“I thought you said you didn’t want any more children,” Baker says. “You were adamant about it, in fact. And now you’re talking about a baby.”

“Louisa will have the baby,” Anna says.

“And yet you want a cohesive family unit,” Baker says. “So you’ll be co-parents.”

“Of course,” Anna says, shrugging. She doesn’t meet Baker’s eyes because, very likely, she doesn’t want to provoke him into describing what having Dr. Anna Schaffer as a co-parent was like. It was like…having no co-parent at all! But Baker decides he won’t tell Louisa this; he’ll let her find out on her own. Two busy surgeons at the Cleveland Clinic, one baby—what could go wrong?

“Well,” Baker says. “Congratulations.” He picks up his fork. Suddenly, the whole situation seems amusing—and maybe even fortunate? Anna and Louisa are leaving town. Floyd will see them for vacations and holidays, which on the surface appears sad and pathetic. He’s a four-year-old boy; he needs his mother. But Baker is in a position to know that Floyd doesn’t need Anna. He’s been fine this long without her. Maybe Anna will be more engaged as a parent when the job is taken in small bites.