Page 40 of Everything But Mine

ERIC

Diego murmurs quietly into Amanda, like they’re sharing secrets. It’s a complicity they share where I have no business intruding. And I don’t need to. It’s written all over his face that they’re talking about me. That older brother softness that’s so ingrained in him betrays him. She’s standing half inside his arm, tucked under it like a kid who’s trying to pretend she’s not being held.

Val, meanwhile, is tearing into my knife technique as if I’ve just insulted the concept of mise en place itself. She’s holding her glass out toward me like a challenge. I refill it, but when she offers the bottle back, I lift my can instead. Sparkling water. Limit the noise. I make poor decisions when I drink. So, step one in deserving Amanda’s kid is, well… drink less.

She raises an eyebrow—maybe mockingly, maybe amused—and mutters, “Huh.”

Val snags a slice of salami, tosses it into her mouth like a coin flip, and gestures toward the oven. “That lasagna gonna be ready on time for dinner?”

“Five minutes,” I say. “Go sit. I’ll bring everything out.”

The air is thick with the smell of roasted garlic and warm butter. It smells like childhood. Amanda’s, probably. I’ve never had a nonna. Diego’s already on seconds while I push food around my plate, waiting for Val to detonate. He’s talking incessantly about this five-day camping and hiking trip. Val and Amanda are talking about some conference. Val needs speakers or funding or something or another. Her eyes keep darting between Amanda and me, squinting.

I’m more than my failures. I still don’t fully believe it. Amanda deserves awesome. The kid deserves awesome. And if I get enough of a hold on myself, I will deserve them both. Because Daray fucking doesn’t.

Val’s eyes are locked on my tight fists. She knows there’s more to this than a casual dinner. If Diego can shut the fuck up about getting skunked, maybe we can get the ball rolling. It’s time. Amanda nudges my foot under the table, wordlessly asking if she should take the lead.

No. I clear my throat, and I accidentally scrape my fork. At least Diego is quiet now. Val stabs a cherry tomato with surgical precision. She points the knife first at Amanda, then at me. But it, of course, lingers on me. “So,” she says casually, “anything you want to fill us in on? Like how domestic you two are now?”

I can see some of the tomato through Val’s half-open mouth as she chews. She’s doing it on purpose. I survey Diego. He has a soft smirk, as if he finds it funny that Medusa hates me. He opens his mouth, about to crack a joke, because he thinks I need rescuing from bullies the way I used to.

“You both know that Amanda is pregnant. There’s a shift in logistics, and we need you to help us keep a lid on the details so things don’t get too out of control.” Val stares through me, becoming more hostile by the minute. I’m already fucking this up. I find my professor mode, making it look less of an emotional decision, hoping that’ll earn me some of Val’s approval. “Amanda and I have decided to co-parent.” I lick my lips. “Together.”

Diego leans back in his chair and claps his hands together. “Fuck yeah. This is great.” His smile takes up his entire face; he is thrilled.

Val doesn’t miss a beat. She just takes another sip of wine and mutters. She turns to him. “Don’t encourage this.”

“I’m not encouraging,” Diego says, opening another beer. “I’m celebrating. This is the best possible version of the dumb shit Eric usually pulls.”

She lifts her glass toward him. “You get a gold star for emotional support.” Diego grins, like she just made his day. “Let me ask this. Is this insanity mutual delusion or just Eric’s?” My chest tightens at truly feeling and seeing the disapproval that I knew was coming.

“I—”

“Val,” Amanda interjects. “We are not delusional. If I wanted an appointment, I’d book one. Eric is my person—mine. It doesn’t need to make sense to you. This baby will be better off with Eric. End of story.”

There’s silent tension, and it’s clear that Val doesn’t like it. She’s bristling, and she lifts up her chin, itching to counter Amanda, but I am settled and certain because I don’t need Val’s approval. Medusa can suck a dick, for all I care. I just need Amanda’s partnership, and she just said—showed—that I have it.

The silence would have stretched, but that’s what Diego is for: murdering awkward silences. He raises his beer and starts clinking glasses with everyone, going on about how he’s going to be a double uncle and how Diego goes well for a boy and a girl. I don’t know why Val can’t pay more attention to his delusions.

Val is too quiet to be done with me. She sets her wine down, slowly. “So, you want to co-parent,” she says evenly. “Why?”

I glance at Diego, but he shrugs. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Val hums. “That’s a moral framework. I’m asking what it means to you.”

I shrug. “I care about Amanda. I care about the baby.”

“Sure.” She folds her hands. “And if we paused there, that would sound generous. But I know you. So I’m going to ask you again. What are you hoping will come from saying you care?”

I look away. This is what she does. Every time. “I wasn’t hoping for anything.”

“That’s never true. Not even when we think it is.”

I exhale hard through my nose. “Fine. I want her to stay. With me. For longer.” Forever.

Val tilts her head. “So you made a lifelong commitment to a child who isn’t biologically yours in order to avoid saying you didn’t want to lose her?”

My throat goes dry. “It’s not like that.”