Chapter 3

He must have remembered I was in the same hospital, because that afternoon Ethan stopped by.

He brought a bag of fruit and set it on the nightstand.

"Vanessa said Mia had a fever and she couldn't handle it alone, so I went to help out this morning. I didn't see your message."

I looked at him. On the inside of his shirt collar was a small smear of lipstick, bright red.

Ethan followed my gaze and looked down. For a second, his face looked uncomfortable.

"Mia was playing dress-up with Vanessa's lipstick. It rubbed off when she came over to kiss me."

Whatever hurt and anger I'd had left had long since gone cold. All that was left was a flat sort of calm, like looking at a stranger.

"Mm."

Ethan paused, as if he hadn't expected that reaction.

He looked at my face, which had gotten so much thinner, and something like guilt rose in his eyes.

"You've had a hard few days. From now on, I'll be here for you and the baby. While you're recovering, I'm not going anywhere."

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

The ringtone had been recorded by Mia. The little girl's high-pitched voice exploded through the room: "Daddy Ethan, answer the phone! Mommy needs you! Daddy Ethan, answer the phone!"

Ethan picked up quickly.

"What's wrong? ... Okay. I'll be right there."

He hung up and stood.

"Vanessa fell and hurt her foot, and Mia won't stop crying. I'm going to check on them."

At the door, as if he remembered what he'd just said, he added, "I'll be right back."

Just like every other time, he wasn't right back.

By the time Joy and I were discharged, Ethan had come by a total of three times, and every time, one call from Vanessa had pulled him away.

I went to get Joy's birth certificate by myself.

The house was cold and empty. The pothos on the windowsill had wilted more than halfway.

I bought the formula and the diapers myself, carrying everything home from the store alone, a shopping bag in one hand and Joy in the other arm. Walking down the street, I looked so pathetic it was almost funny.

As I turned the corner, I saw Ethan.

He was with Vanessa and Mia, the three of them walking toward me, laughing and talking.

Vanessa was wearing a Chanel jacket, her makeup perfect, her hair curled without a strand out of place.

I'd seen that jacket before. Last month, when Ethan came home from a business trip, it was in his suitcase.

When I asked him, he said it was a gift for a client. The jacket cost over three thousand dollars.

And last year, when I bought a pair of shoes for two hundred dollars, he said they were too expensive and told me to return them. He said we needed to be careful with money, that there was no need to wear anything that nice.

When Ethan saw me, the smile on his face froze.