You're not scared? I'm scared all the time. I'm scared I'm going to screw up. I'm scared Elena's going to grow up and realize I had no idea what I was doing.
I'm scared Mia's going to resent me for splitting my attention. I'm scared you're going to wake up one day and decide this was all a mistake. I wouldn't You might, and that's okay. We're all figuring this out as we go.
Lena walked back over and sat down in the chair across from him. She looked at Elena, then at him. I don't want to do this alone, she said quietly. You're not alone.
I feel like I am. Then let me help, really help. Not just when you call me in a panic. Let me be here.
Lena's eyes searched his face. What does that look like? I don't know, but we figure it out together. She nodded slowly.
Okay. Okay? Okay. That night Ethan slept on Lena's couch again.
He woke up every 2 hours when Elena cried, heated bottles, changed diapers, walked her around the apartment until she fell back asleep. Lena helped, but she moved like someone underwater, slow, exhausted, running on fumes. By morning, they'd developed a rhythm. Not perfect, not smooth, but functional.
Lena made coffee while Ethan fed Elena. They sat at the kitchen table in silence, both too tired to talk. The sunrise bled through the windows, washing everything in pale gold light. This is weird, right?
Lena said finally. What? This, us, playing house. We're not playing house, we're raising a kid.
Same thing. Not even close. Lena looked at him over her coffee cup. What do you tell people when they ask about us?
I tell them we're co-parenting. That's it? What else would I say? She shrugged.
I don't know. It just feels like there should be more to it than that. Ethan didn't know how to answer that because she was right, there was more to it. But he didn't have words for what that more was.
They weren't together. They weren't not together. They were something in between, something undefined and messy and real in a way that made him uncomfortable. His phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. Work. He ignored it. You should get that, Lena said.
It can wait. Ethan. It can wait. She looked like she wanted to argue, but didn't.
The phone stopped ringing. 30 seconds later, it started again. Ethan sighed and answered. Yeah?
Where the hell are you? It was Jenkins, his project lead. We've got the client presentation in an hour and you're not here. Ethan's stomach dropped.
What presentation? The Hartman pitch. You were supposed to have the deck ready by 9:00. I thought that was next week.
It's today. Marcus sent you three emails about it. Ethan pulled his phone away from his ear and checked his inbox. Three unread emails from Marcus.
The most recent one time stamped 6:00 a.m. with the subject line, "Where are you?" I'm sorry, Ethan said. I completely forgot. You forgot? Ethan, this is a $2 million account.
You can't just forget. I know, I'm sorry. I'll be there in 30 minutes. You better be.
Jenkins hung up. Ethan sat there staring at his phone, feeling the weight of his exhaustion press down on him like a physical thing. You have to go, Lena said. Yeah.
Go. I've got her. You sure? Ethan, go.
I'll be fine. He stood up, grabbed his jacket, kissed Elena on the forehead, and headed for the door. He was halfway out when Lena called after him. Hey.
He turned. Thank you for last night. Anytime. He meant it.
The presentation was a disaster. Ethan showed up 20 minutes late, unshowered, in yesterday's clothes, with a half-finished deck that Marcus had to frantically pull together in the conference room. The client wasn't impressed. Jenkins wasn't impressed.
And when it was over, Ethan got pulled into his boss's office. What the hell is going on with you? Jenkins said, closing the door behind them. I'm sorry.
It won't happen again. That's what you said last week, and the week before that. I know, I'm dealing with some stuff at home. Yeah, I heard, the baby.
Congratulations, by the way. Thanks. Jenkins sat down behind his desk, leaning back in his chair. Look, Ethan.
I get it. You've got a lot on your plate. But you're not the first person to have a kid while working here. You've got to figure out how to balance it.
I'm trying. Try harder, because right now you're not pulling your weight, and if that continues, we're going to have a problem. Ethan nodded. Understood.
Good. Now go home, get some sleep, come back tomorrow ready to work. Ethan left the office feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. He sat in his car for 10 minutes trying to decide where to go.
Home to Mia? Back to Lena's? Nowhere felt right. He ended up driving to the park near his apartment.
It was mid-morning on a weekday, so the place was mostly empty. A few joggers, a woman walking her dog, a guy sitting on a bench reading. Ethan sat on a different bench and stared at nothing. His phone rang again.
Lena this time. Hey, he said. Hey. How'd it go?
Not great. Want to talk about it? Not really. Okay.
There was a pause. Elena's asleep. I was thinking about taking a nap. You want to come back and crash on the couch?
Ethan almost said no. He almost told her he needed to go home, see Mia, get his head straight, but he was so tired, and the thought of going back to that apartment, to the quiet rhythm he and Lena were starting to build, felt like the only thing that made sense. Yeah, he said. I'll be there in 20.
When he got back, Lena was already asleep on the bed, Elena in the bassinet beside her. Ethan took off his shoes, collapsed on the couch, and was out in under a minute. He woke up to the sound of voices. Lena's and someone else's.
A woman's voice he didn't recognize. He sat up, disoriented. The apartment was dark except for the light coming from the hallway. He could hear Lena talking in the kitchen.