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“I…” She blows out a frustrated breath. “I just talked to him.”
“Never a good idea, in my experience,” I mutter.
“Yeah, well.” She really is too young to sound so weary. “I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“What did he say?”
“More of the same old shit,” she says. “I just…I don’t know why I keep wanting it to be different.”
“Abby…” I pause, frowning. I know what she’s feeling, but I don’t want to be the one to completely snuff out her hope. “You’re not going to find what you’re looking for. Not with him. He’s just not wired that way.”
“I know that, I do, but—” I can hear her puff air from her nostrils. “It just sucks, you know? I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“I know you didn’t,” I tell her quietly. “This isn’t your fault.”
“And I’m sorry for dumping my problems on you,” she barrels on. “I know it isn’t your fault, either, and I know you definitely didn’t ask for this any more than I did, but I—”
“Abby,” I interrupt calmly. “Listen. You don’t have to apologize to me, okay? I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you, got it? I care about you, and that means I want to help you when you need it. I know I haven’t been very good about being there, but it’s not because I don’t—”
“Ian?”
I turn to look behind me with my mouth parted midsentence—a sleepy-looking Lila blinking at me from the attached living room with her arms wrapped around her middle and a puzzled expression on her face.
“Lila,” I breathe.
Abby’s voice sounds from the speaker on my phone. “Who’s that?”
“Abby,” I say, clearing my throat. “Can I call you back?”
“Oh. Um. Sure.”
I probably seem like a dick leaving her hanging like this, but I don’t know how much Lila heard, and the idea of her misconstruing whatever it was that she heard makes my stomach clench.
“Thanks,” I tell Abby. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Okay.”
I don’t move even after Abby hangs up, still watching Lila as she eyes me curiously.
“Hey,” I offer quietly. “Sleep well?”
“I slept okay,” she says, her brow wrinkling. “You were gone when I got up.”
“Yeah, I…” I gesture at the pot in front of me. “I found some sauce in the fridge, and there was pasta in the pantry, and I thought…”
Lila’s mouth quirks. “Really pulling out all the stops for me, huh, Cupcake?”
“Right,” I manage, relief flooding through me. Her joking is a good sign. “Only the best food that you mostly cooked yourself.”
She bites back a grin, but there’s still an uncertainty to her gaze. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” I tell her immediately. “You really didn’t. That was…” I frown, wondering where to even begin to explain. “You see, that was actually—”
“Ian,” she interrupts, holding up a hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Seriously. I trust you.”
A knot I hadn’t even realized had been bundling up in my chest starts to loosen, a warm feeling flooding in its wake that feels too big for the short span of time since Lila has come back into my life. I nod slowly back at her, my tongue feeling too thick all of a sudden.
“Thank you,” I manage hoarsely. “I’m glad that you trust me.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other, realizing that I want her to know. She deserves that. “I’d still like to explain, if you don’t mind. I think…” I nod to myself. “I think I’d feel better if I did.”
