Page 66 of Sexting My Ex’s Dad

ATHENA

I’m not about to let him be Ivy’s father right now, when it’s clearly so convenient for him. I’ve done everything alone.

The thought runs hot and clean through my head while Nathan stands in my doorway like he owns the oxygen in the hallway. Ivy is behind me, half-asleep and suddenly alert, her small hands rubbing at her eyes while she stares at him with a fear she doesn’t know how to name.

I slide one step sideways, not to block her view completely, but to put myself between her and the unknown. My pulse stays steady on the outside, and my skin feels too thin on the inside.

“Baby,” I whisper, keeping my voice soft. “Go back to bed.”

Ivy doesn’t move.

Her gaze stays fixed on Nathan’s face, then drops to his hands, then returns to his eyes like she’s trying to figure out whether this man is a problem. She swallows, then presses her fingers against the doorframe.

“Who is this?” she murmurs, voice small and confused.

I close my eyes for half a second, then open them and keep my expression calm.

“Nobody who will hurt us,” I tell her quietly. “Right now you just need to go back to sleep.”

Nathan shifts at the threshold, not stepping in, not pushing, and I hate that the restraint makes him look better. His attention moves to Ivy and it changes him, and the change is subtle, but it’s real. The man who walked into my life like a crisis arrives with something controlled and careful in his face.

“Athena,” he says, voice low. “May I talk to her?”

My fingers tighten around the edge of the door without me meaning them to. “No,” I say, then pause, then correct myself with effort. “Not like that.”

Nathan doesn’t argue. He keeps his hands visible at his sides, palms open, like he understands what he looks like to a child waking up in the night.

“Just enough,” he says. “Just so she isn’t scared.”

I glance down at Ivy. Her eyes flick to me, wide and glossy, and she takes a shallow breath like she’s trying to be brave the way she is at the hospital when she comes with me on weekend volunteer days.

I hate that this is happening here. I hate that he showed up like this. Still, Ivy’s shoulders are drawn tight, and her fear is starting to turn into questions I don’t have answers for at midnight. I look back at Nathan.

“One sentence,” I say. “And you stay right there.”

Nathan nods once. “Understood.”

I shift slightly, angling my body enough that Ivy can see him clearly without feeling cornered. My hand stays on her shoulder, warm and steady, grounding her.

Nathan lowers himself a fraction, not kneeling, not performing, just adjusting his height so he isn’t towering. His voice comes out quiet, even, and careful.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says. “You’re safe. I’m not here to hurt you or your mom.”

Ivy’s brows draw together as she studies him, then she swallows again. “Who are you?”

Nathan’s eyes flick toward me for permission, and my chest tightens. I don’t give him a name to use. I don’t give him the word that changes everything.

He keeps it simple.

“I’m someone your mom used to know,” he says. “And I came to talk to her for a minute.”

Ivy’s gaze shifts back to me. “Is he a bad guy?”

The question lands in my throat like a stone. I keep my voice level, then I squeeze her shoulder lightly. “No. He’s not.”

Nathan holds still, as if he understands that my answer is for Ivy, not for him. Ivy stares at him another beat, then her eyelids flutter with sleep fighting curiosity.

“Okay,” she whispers.