Chapter 2

On Rachel's first morning in our house, I carried Noah into the garage and discovered my car was gone.

His pediatric follow-up was at 7:40.

Freezing rain tapped against the garage door. The only vehicle left was Ethan's work truck, which had no back seat. Noah's car seat sat against the wall, mud still smeared across the base.

I called Ethan. He answered quickly, keyboard clicks in the background.

"Where is my car?"

"Rachel took it. She had to drive Sophie to school."

I looked at the car seat. "You took Noah's seat out?"

"She has several boxes that got soaked, and they wouldn't fit in the back. Get a rideshare today. I'll reimburse you."

"Ethan, this isn't about reimbursement. You gave someone else a car registered in my name without even telling me."

The line went quiet.

"She isn't someone else," he said. "And it is only for a few days."

By the time my mother arrived with her spare car seat, we were twenty-two minutes late.

After checking Noah's ears, the pediatrician reminded me that respiratory infections were spreading and that I should keep him away from anyone with a cough or fever whenever possible.

She looked directly at me. "Wash hands often and call as soon as he develops symptoms. Seven months is still very young. Do not try to tough it out at home."

When we returned, Rachel let herself in with a door code.

She wore one of Ethan's old gray sweatshirts and knelt by the fireplace, helping Sophie hang stockings.

"There you are." She stood, as relaxed as if she had only stepped out for milk. "Your car handles beautifully. Ethan said you don't drive far now that you have the baby."

"He had no right to loan you my car."

Her smile faltered for a second, then returned. "I must have misunderstood. I thought married couples didn't separate everything into his and hers."

An old stocking had appeared over the fireplace. The green yarn was pilled with age, and RACHEL was stitched across the white cuff.

It hung between Ethan's and Sophie's stockings. Noah's and mine had been pushed to the far right.

Sophie ran over to tell me she had found it in an old box in the basement. She was simply delighted, so I did not take it down in front of her.

That afternoon, Rachel made Ethan's favorite creamy chicken stew.

She knew which shelf held the spices and that the cast-iron pot needed to be preheated. Ethan came home early and tasted the sauce from the spoon she held out to him.

"Still tastes exactly the same," he said.

Rachel laughed and tapped his hand away. "I made it every Christmas Eve, remember? Sophie still does."

They began talking about a Christmas when their oven broke and the three of them ate dinner in a convenience store.

Sophie laughed. Ethan supplied every detail Rachel forgot.

No one deliberately told me to be quiet. I simply could not find a single place to enter the conversation.

Noah squirmed in my arms, so I went to the kitchen to make his bottle.

Ethan only said, "We should start before the stew gets cold."

By the time I came back with a settled baby, they were reliving a second Christmas that only the three of them remembered.

My serving was still in the pot. The chair where I had been sitting was covered with old photo albums.

No one looked up to move them.

After dinner, I opened the smart-lock app to change Rachel's access to an eleven-day guest code.

The new user had been added at 11:08 the night before, nine hours before Ethan told me she was coming.

Name: Rachel.

Access level: Family member.

Expiration: None.

Added by: Ethan.

Note: Family.

I took a screenshot before carrying my phone into the kitchen.

"Change her access to guest," I said. "Set it to expire in eleven days."

"There is no need." Ethan put a plate into the dishwasher. "Sophie will come over with her again."

"Sophie already has her own code."

"They're mother and daughter. Do you have to draw a line through everything?"

"A seven-month-old baby and I live behind that door. I have a right to know who can walk in whenever she wants."

Ethan closed the dishwasher. His voice cooled. "You make ordinary co-parenting sound like someone is invading your life."

I tapped Remove Family Member and handed him the phone when the confirmation box appeared.

Ethan glanced at it.

Then he pressed Cancel.

"She is Sophie's mother," he said. "She will be coming here often."

The screen returned to the member list.

Rachel's name was still there.

Access level: Family member.

Expiration: None.