Chapter 3
Series 1 Chapter 3
Ryan stared at the cake in the trash.
“That was unnecessary.”
“She’s six,” I said.
“She’s old enough to know better than to throw food away.”
Lucy stood beside me, still holding the stuffed unicorn.
I took her hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
As we left the kitchen, Ryan called after me.
“You can’t encourage this every time she doesn’t get what she wants.”
I kept walking.
In her bedroom, Lucy changed out of her star dress and climbed beneath the covers. I placed the unicorn on her dresser.
She watched me turn on her night-light.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“If Noah needs Daddy more, do I only get Daddy when Noah is okay?”
My hand stopped on the lamp.
“No, sweetheart.”
“But Daddy said—”
“What Daddy said wasn’t fair to you.”
She looked at the family picture she had drawn and pushed it under her pillow.
“Will he come to the planetarium?”
“I don’t know.”
It was the first time I had given her an honest answer.
After Lucy fell asleep, I returned downstairs.
Ryan had gone to shower. His blue team shirt lay across the back of a chair, and his tablet sat beside it.
I thought about the other times Claire had needed him.
When Lucy had a fever last winter, Ryan had left to help Claire with a dead car battery. He missed Lucy’s spring concert because Noah needed a ride to the dentist. Our weekend at the lake had ended before we unpacked because a pipe burst beneath Claire’s sink.
Each time, Ryan had called it an emergency.
Each time, I had told Lucy he would make it up to us.
I opened our banking app on my phone.
We both had access to the account, though I rarely reviewed individual transfers.
I searched Claire’s name.
The first payment appeared twenty-three months earlier.
Eight hundred dollars.
The note read: RENT HELP.
More transfers followed. Nine hundred the next month. Then tuition for Noah’s after-school program, soccer registration, summer camp, medical bills, car repairs and groceries.
Some payments went directly to Claire. Others went to Noah’s school or the management company listed on her apartment lease.
The total was $47,820.
My chest tightened.
We did not have forty-seven thousand dollars to give away without discussion. I opened the savings categories attached to the account.
The balance under LUCY’S COLLEGE FUND was $9,500 lower than it should have been.
A transfer from that category had covered one semester of Noah’s private school tuition.
Ryan had taken money we saved for our daughter and used it to provide for someone else’s son.
The shower stopped upstairs.
I photographed the transactions and uploaded them to a private folder. Then I opened Ryan’s tablet.
We used it for family calendars and video calls. His messages were already open.
A notification from Claire waited at the top.
Thank you for today. Noah hasn’t stopped talking about winning with you. Our little family looked pretty perfect in blue.
Ryan had replied with a heart.
I scrolled carefully.
Claire thanked him for tuition payments and doctor visits. She reminded him about soccer practice and asked him to hide charges so I would not “misunderstand.”
Then I found a message from three weeks earlier.
Noah asked why you can’t be his dad at school. I didn’t know what to tell him.
Ryan’s answer appeared beneath it.
I can’t be his dad in public yet. But when the time is right, we’ll be a real family.
I read it again.
Not helping a friend.
Not supporting a child who needed him.
A real family.
One he apparently could not have while Lucy and I were still in the way.
Footsteps sounded above me.
I took photographs of the conversation, sent them to the private folder and returned the tablet to the exact spot where Ryan had left it.
He entered the kitchen in sweatpants, drying his hair with a towel.
“Is she asleep?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll be fine tomorrow.” He opened the refrigerator. “You shouldn’t let her think she can punish people whenever she’s disappointed.”
I looked at him.
“Is that what you think happened tonight?”
“I think she’s tired, and you’re upset.” He took out a bottle of water. “Claire has had to raise Noah alone. It wouldn’t hurt Lucy to learn some compassion.”
He walked upstairs without waiting for an answer.
I opened our shared calendar.
A blue entry appeared next Thursday morning: OUT-OF-TOWN CLIENT MEETING.
But the tablet calendar showed another event at the same time.
FATHER-SON BREAKFAST — NOAH’S SCHOOL.
Ryan had already planned his next lie.
I went upstairs and checked on Lucy. The family picture lay unfolded beside her hand.
The figure labeled DADDY had been rubbed with an eraser until only a pale outline remained.
I stood beside her bed and saved the last screenshot.
Tomorrow, I would stop asking Ryan to choose us.