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He turned his attention back to the mother of his child. Though he believed she was telling the truth about who the father was, he’d still insist on a DNA test. He believed her, but he wasn’t stupid. Yet looking at her sleeping, the test felt like a formality. The mother of his child slept on her side and snorted in her sleep.
Karl was surprised how much her sleeping in his guest bed pleased him. He thought he’d been pleased when his divorce lawyer had confirmed she didn’t protest the divorce or the terms. That feeling was nothing like the warmth in his heart at seeing the contrast of her black hair against the primary colors of the duvet cover.
Before he left for the gym and office—both to work and to investigate his wife—Karl checked his laptop to make sure she wouldn’t find anything personal on it, and then he wrote her a note.
* * *
VIVIAN WOKE UP to sunlight, though the west-facing room wasn’t as bright as she’d expected with the lack of curtains. The gray clouds pressed as heavily on Chicago today as they had yesterday. The travel mug on the nightstand next to a note that said “decaf” was full of lukewarm, black coffee, which she drank anyway. At the sound of the mug hitting the table, Xìnyùn started shuffling his feet and whistling, “Deal, deal, deal.” When he finally squeaked out, “Deal, goddammit,” Vivian swung her feet out of bed to face the day and her father’s parrot.
In the kitchen she found a laptop and another note. Karl’s first two suggestions seemed reasonable, the third she was going to ignore completely. After showering and eating a small breakfast of leftover egg roll and cold, hard rice topped with honey, she opened the laptop and prepared to look for a job. A résumé was something she’d always planned to create, once she finally graduated from college. Middle Kingdom had only required a desperately prepared job application when it had opened in grandeur before the big economic downturn.
Her job history was easy enough to write, but what name should she put at the top? There were riverboat casinos around Chicago, but they would call Vegas and learn Vivian Yap was unemployable. Yet, as Vivian Milek, she didn’t have ID.
When Karl got home, Vivian had prepared a draft of her résumé and notes of jobs to apply for—none of them at a casino. She was also ready with her arguments about the third point on his note. “You are not going to buy me a winter coat.”
“Do you have a winter coat?” He unloaded take-out containers of Middle Eastern food on the counter without turning to face her.
“No.”
“Do you have money to buy a winter coat?”
He knew the answer. Did he have to make her admit to it? “No.”
“It is February in Chicago. I can buy you a winter coat or you can sit in my apartment until spring. If you’re lucky, spring will come early this year.” He handed her two plates, as tranquil as if they were talking about the weather and not how increasingly indebted to him she was.
Of course, they were talking about the weather. Next time she married a stranger, she was going to pick one from Florida or San Diego—someplace that didn’t require a winter coat.
She took the plates and flatware to the table, her back stiff with the worry of what accepting a winter coat from a stranger implied. “I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, and I don’t like it.”
“Are you a prostitute?”
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. The other thing she was going to keep in mind the next time she married a stranger was to pick a man who didn’t feel the need to ask her if she was a prostitute more than once. “The first time you asked me that question was one too many times.” In case he didn’t get the point, she let the plates drop to the table with a clang.
He waited until he’d filled his plate with hummus and tabbouleh before responding. “Stop implying I’m a john and I’ll stop wondering if you’re a prostitute.”
“I don’t want you to spend money on me.”
“Vivian,” he said, setting his fork on his plate without making a clink like she would have. “A winter coat won’t cost me anything near your health insurance and child support. Take the damn coat.”
