Page 37 of Buttons

Julian can parade Carmella through every gala in the city, but I will not, and cannot, allow his actions to hurt our children.

Leo says, “Grandma took us to the park.”

“Oh, she did?” Mom nods, and I continue. “Did you have lots of fun?”

Leo considers this with the serious deliberation he brings to everything. “I guess so. Billy was by the swings, but he’s a jerk, anyway.”

“Did he say something to you?” I have a bad feeling in my stomach, and judging by the look on his face, the drama with his dad goes beyond sneaking pictures with my mom.

Leo’s gaze drops to the floor. “He said Daddy upgraded to a prettier model. I don’t know what that means, but it made the other kids laugh.” His voice gets smaller with each word. “And Emma was by the slide. She said that you must be really sad because the lady in the pictures is so much prettier than you.”

I can practically see the scene. Huddles of women with lattes on park benches gossiping around the kids. Husbands bragging and rating our looks. I bite the inside of my cheek.

“Oh my,” my mother says. “I-I had no idea this was going on. Meredith and I were at the sandbox.”

“Mom,” I say, needing time alone with Leo for a few minutes. “Can you go check on Meredith while Leo and I talk?”

“Of course.”

Once she’s gone, I ask, “Did other kids say things, too?”

Leo gives a hesitant nod, confirming my worst fears. “Zach said his dad told him that Daddy is a ‘player.’” He looks up at me, confusion clear in his eyes. “Which is ridiculous because Daddy doesn’t play sports.”

I take Leo’s face between my palms, looking directly into his eyes. “Listen to me. What’s happening between your father and me is grown-up business that has nothing to do with you or Meredith.”

“Like when Meredith says words she doesn’t know? Yesterday she said that my pajamas werehakuna matata.”

“Exactly like that.” I smile, smoothing his hair. “The next time someone says something, you can tell them that grown-up problems are for grown-ups, and kids should worry about kid things.”

Leo doesn’t look entirely convinced, but some of the tension leaves him. “Sure, but can I have a snack?”

When I answer, “Yes,” he sits at the kitchen table, swinging his legs while I prepare a sandwich. My hands are steady now.

I decide to work a bit once the children are in bed.

The shelter’s financial documents sit in the center of my table. Beatrix has reluctantly allowed me to bring them home. “Don’t lose them, Fallinger. Those are years of blood, sweat, and cat hair.”

I open my Excel sheet titled “SKCAS: 5-Year Projection” and finish filling in formulas. If we update the website to include digital donations… If we apply for the county matching grant… If we host quarterly adoption events with proper publicity… Each “if” builds upon the last.

Still, there’s something that I’m noticing: the cat population. We take in three times as many cats at half the adoption rate of our dogs. Putting that tidbit at the back of my mind, I move on to something I’ve been avoiding: custody arrangements. Having Leo talk about the kids at the playground reminded me that children need stability, and I think it’ll be helpful to have something written down and set.

I draft a custody schedule on Word, designing a system that would minimize direct contact with Julian. I suggest drop-offs at school rather than at our respective homes, communication through a co-parenting app about schedule changes and events, and holiday arrangements. If needed, I can hire a lawyer, but then I know Julian would hire one, and it could turn messy. I’d rather try to mediate between the two of us and go from there.

For hours, I go back and forth between shelter budgets and drafting my proposed custody arrangements until the clock on my laptop shows 2:17 a.m. My eyes burn with fatigue.

Wanting to check on the children before bed, I stand and tiptoe down the hall. Meredith’s door remains partially open,since she always insists on a crack of light, afraid of missing something important during the night. Inside, she is a small lump beneath her blankets, only the top of her head visible.

Next door, Leo’s room is quiet. I peek through the shadows to see him fast asleep, his breathing deep and even. He lies in the center of his mattress, one arm flung dramatically over his head. A quiet warmth settles in my chest. I am so incredibly proud of them.

Chapter 16

Julian

It’s the Monday after the gala, and the headlines mock me from every angle. “CARMELLA RUIZ AND JULIAN PLAZA: REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD.” I spread the local newspapers across my desk, studying each annoying photo. In every shot, my hand rests on Carmella’s back. We smile perfectly, looking like the power couple that’s suggested. Despite it, nothing about this picture is perfect.

I’m at work and painfully aware that I haven’t shaved in two days. My shirt looks like I slept in it. Maybe I did. The tie hangs loose around my neck. I can’t remember the last time I looked this incomplete.

When I click refresh on the Pioneer’s website, another article appears. This one is with a shot of Carmella leaning toward me with her lips near my ear. The caption suggests she’s whisperingsomething intimate, but in reality, she was saying, “Your ex-wife just walked in.”