"Caroline is definitely career-driven, and she takes good care of Noah too."
"But when it comes to feelings... who can really say?"
Letitia caught the implication. The smile tugging at the corners of her mouth was barely containable.
A strange, bittersweet ache bloomed somewhere near my heart.
I steadied myself for a moment, then walked up to the counter and asked the owner to pack up an order of fried rice.
"Babe?"
Corey spotted me and went visibly stiff, scratching the back of his head with a guilty sort of restlessness. "The band's having a dinner tonight. I forgot to mention it. What are you doing here...?"
"Hey, sis!"
Letitia's voice rang out, bright and chipper. "We just got started. Want to join us?"
Then she tugged at Corey's sleeve and pouted.
"Honestly, Corey, how could you not tell her? Now she has to eat all by herself, poor thing."
I heard exactly what she meant. My expression didn't change.
"No need. Noah spiked a fever and he's in the hospital. I need to get back."
Corey froze. His brow furrowed on instinct.
"A fever? How does a perfectly healthy kid get a fever? How are you taking care of him, Caroline?"
I tugged the corner of my mouth into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"I had work to handle—"
"Work?!" His voice shot up. "All you ever think about is work. You can't even take care of an eight-year-old, and you call yourself a mother?"
Something in what I'd said had set him off. He jabbed a finger in my direction, brimming with self-righteous fury.
"And another thing—you couldn't have called me sooner? Do you even consider me his father? I bet that's it. You look down on me. You've always looked down on me, the guy who's 'wasting his life' playing in a band!"
He was practically shaking with indignation.
"Let me tell you something—our band is competing in the National Band Championship next month. The judges think highly of us. So don't you dare look down on me!"
I listened to his tirade in silence. Around us, the rest of the band watched with thinly veiled amusement.
When he finally ran out of steam, I spoke.
"Are you done?" My voice was level. "The reason I didn't call you was because I didn't want to interrupt Letitia confessing her feelings to you at the hotel."
Corey's expression locked in place.
"Wh—what hotel? What confession? Don't make things up! Letitia and I aren't what you think."
Letitia clutched the hem of her shirt, her face flushing scarlet.
"Sis, please don't get the wrong idea. I did ask Corey to meet up, but only to thank him for letting me into the band so I could make a living. That's all. Nothing more."
Looking at the two of them squirming, a wave of exhaustion washed over me.
"Whatever. I'm leaving."
I grabbed the takeout and headed for the hospital.
Before long, footsteps trailed behind me.
Corey had followed.
"I'll come check on Noah..."
Under the medication, Noah was still asleep. I opened the container and picked at a few bites of rice.
Corey glanced at me several times before speaking, his voice low.
"Babe, you've been working hard. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up like that..."
He knew perfectly well why we'd gotten married. We'd done it for Noah.
Corey had spent the first twenty years of his life in a band—never earning much, but living free. I was an investment manager at a securities firm, surrounded by money every day. If it hadn't been for that one drunken night when we crossed a line, neither of us would have given the other a second look.
Two weeks later, I showed up at his door with the ultrasound results and laid it all on the table.
Maybe it was because I looked so uncharacteristically vulnerable that day. He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly pulled me into his arms.
"Caroline, let's get married."
For a while after that, he stopped going to band practice. He came with me to every prenatal appointment, cooked meals tailored to my pregnancy cravings. The day I gave birth, he cried louder than I did, and even through the tears, he didn't forget to hold me.
From the day Noah was born until he turned three, Corey was the one doing the midnight feedings and changing diapers, present for every milestone.
Noah's very first word wasn't "mama."
It was "dada."
