Chapter 5

Ethan called Sarah before he called the pediatrician.

"Why are you calling her?" I asked.

He had Chloe in his arms while I shoved her insurance card, clean pajamas, and rabbit into a tote.

"She knows which urgent care stays open late."

"I know where the emergency room is. Put her in the car."

Chloe whimpered against his shoulder.

Her cheeks were bright red, and her eyes looked too heavy for her face.

"I want the star light."

The lamp Sarah had left was still on the counter.

I put it in the bag.

At the hospital, a nurse took one look at the number on the thermometer and brought us through the doors.

Chloe cried when the blood pressure cuff squeezed her arm.

I climbed onto the narrow bed and held her against my chest.

"When did the fever start?" the nurse asked.

"She said her head hurt at five-fifteen. It was 104.1 at five-twenty. I gave her seven and a half milliliters of children's acetaminophen at five-twenty-five. No vomiting. She ate half a sandwich at lunch."

The nurse nodded and typed.

"Any allergies?"

"Amoxicillin. She broke out in hives when she was two."

Ethan stood at the foot of the bed, silent.

I knew my daughter.

The knowledge did not feel like winning.

It felt like keeping her safe, which was what it had always been for.

The doctor said Chloe likely had a virus and was mildly dehydrated.

They gave her medicine and a frozen fruit pop, then asked us to wait until her temperature came down.

At seven-thirty, Sarah appeared in the doorway.

Lily was not with her.

"How is she?"

I looked at Ethan. "You told her to come?"

"She was worried."

Sarah stepped closer to the bed. "Hey, sweet pea."

Chloe lifted one weak hand.

"Sing stars."

Sarah sat on the plastic chair and began a soft song I had never heard.

Chloe turned her face toward the sound.

The pain of that moment was simple.

My sick child wanted comfort, and another woman knew how to give it.

I did not interrupt the song.

When Chloe's eyes closed, Sarah reached for the cup on the tray.

"She likes the straw bent," she whispered.

"I know how she drinks," I said.

Sarah set the cup down.

Ethan motioned toward the hall. "Maya, can we talk?"

"We can talk here."

"Not in front of Chloe."

"Then it can wait."

He walked out anyway.

A minute later, I followed only because his anger was filling the room.

"You made Sarah feel unwelcome after she drove all the way here," he said.

"I didn't ask her to come."

"Chloe did."

Through the hospital door, I could hear Chloe shifting against the paper sheet.

Ethan was arguing for Sarah's comfort while our sick child waited for one of her parents to return.

"Chloe is four and sick. You called her."

"Because she calms Chloe down. This is exactly why Sarah needs to be here."

The hallway was busy.

A man pushed an older woman past us in a wheelchair.

Somewhere behind the closed doors, a baby cried.

Ethan had said the sentence in his patient voice, measured and reasonable.

That made it worse.

"Needs to be where?" I asked.

"In our support system. Stop making it sound dirty."

"You gave her five days of pickup. You offered her our guest room. You let strangers mistake her for Chloe's mother."

Support. The word came out soft and reasonable.

Through the hospital door, Chloe coughed again, and I felt how easily that gentle word had pushed me out of my own child's care.

"She helps. You keep turning help into an insult."

"Because every time she helps, you step farther away. Then you tell me I should thank both of you."

His face hardened. "What do you want me to do? Quit my job so you can arrange flowers whenever you feel like it?"

I had heard him dismiss my work twice in one day.

I also heard the answer under his question.

He believed only one of our careers was real, and he had found a woman willing to cover the rest.

"I want you to carry the part you promised to carry."

"This isn't about me. You're threatened by Sarah."

"I'm threatened by a marriage where I can be replaced in small pieces and called ungrateful for noticing."

The door behind us opened.

Sarah stood there.

She had heard enough to understand.

"I can leave," she said.

Ethan turned toward her. "You don't have to."

"Yes, she does," I said.

His eyes came back to mine.

"Not tonight, Maya."

"Especially tonight."

Sarah picked up her purse. "I'll go. Text me when her fever drops."

She hugged Ethan before she left.

It was brief.

It may have been nothing more than comfort between friends.

My husband accepted it without looking at me.

By nine, Chloe's temperature was under 101.

The doctor sent us home with ordinary instructions: fluids, rest, medicine, call if she got worse.

In the parking lot, Ethan buckled Chloe into her car seat.

"Let's go home and stop this," he said.

"We're not going home tonight."

He straightened. "What?"

"Tenessa has a guest room. Chloe and I are sleeping there."

"You're taking my daughter because we had a fight?"

"I'm taking our sick child somewhere quiet for the night. You can see her tomorrow."

His hand tightened on the car door.

I kept my voice low for Chloe, refusing to let his shock turn the parking lot into another scene she had to absorb.

"This is insane."

I got into the back seat beside Chloe and sent Tessa a message.

Her answer came before Ethan finished walking around the car.

Door's open. Come now.

"You're proving my point," Ethan said through the open door. "You can't handle one hard week without blowing up our family."

Chloe stirred beneath the hospital blanket.

"Daddy?"

The anger vanished from Ethan's face.

He bent until he was level with her car seat and brushed the damp hair from her forehead.

"I'm here, bug."

Chloe closed her eyes again, one hand curled around the plastic star lamp Sarah had brought her.

I reached for the door.

Ethan didn't move.

"Go to Tessa's if you need space," he said.

For one stupid second, I thought he was finally letting us leave without another fight.

Then he rested his hand on the car seat.

"Chloe's coming home with me."

The parking lot seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

He said it calmly. Almost kindly.

The same way he had announced Sarah's pickups and changed Chloe's swim class—as if my agreement were something he could add later, if he remembered.

"She has a fever."

"Exactly. She needs her own bed."

"She needs her mother."

Ethan's eyes moved over my wrinkled clothes and shaking hands.

I saw him taking inventory of my worst night and turning every piece of it into evidence.

"She's been asking for Sarah," he said. "Sarah already offered to come back."

My fingers tightened around the edge of the open door.

He had sent Sarah away for less than ten minutes, and he was already preparing to put her back beside my daughter.

Chloe opened her eyes.

"Mommy coming home too?"

Ethan didn't answer her.

He reached past me for the red release button on the car seat.

"Don't make this harder on her, Maya."

The buckle clicked.