Page 37 of Summer Romance

I pull intothe parking lot behind Lacey’s office, and Pete is getting out of the passenger seat of a white Toyota. He leans over the door and gives the driver his best, most nauseating smile before he shuts it. The smile dies when he turns around and sees me standing there.

“What was that?” I say.

“I’m dating,” he says.

“A woman?” My brain is catching up to this state of affairs, and not quickly.

“Ali.”

“That’s fine,” I say, and scan the parking lot for Ethan. I just need to get through this meeting.

“You could date too,” he says. And before I eke out a sarcastic reply about just how much dating a woman can do between noon and two on Saturdays, Ethan pulls into the parking lot. He steps out in a maroon velour tracksuit. I am now positive that I am losing my mind, because I like the way he looks in it.

“Hey, guys,” he says. “Hope I’m not late.”

Pete shakes his head and walks into the building.

Ethan gives me his conspiratorial smile, like everything in this world is funny, and offers me his maroon arm to escort me upstairs.

“Nice threads,” Lacey says.

“It’s athleisure,” he says. “My father’s.”

We sit at the round table, and Lacey says, “Let’s look at a monthly calendar and start outlining our expectations.”

Pete says, “Well, what we’ve been doing is the kids live at the house. I take them to soccer Tuesday nights—the days change with the season and league. And then I have them on Saturdays, when we have either practice or a game. And usually for a while after. I coach.”

“What we want to nail down,” says Ethan, “is the language here. Let’s eliminate the word ‘usually’ and commit to chunks of time.”

“With all due respect, Scooter, ‘usually’ works for us. Sometimes things come up and I need to change plans.” Pete is already up for a fight.

“Do things come up for you, Ali?” Ethan asks, and turns his whole body to me, as if to suggest that I now havethe floor. I should be used to this, because Ethan is always giving me the floor. He listens to me in a way that makes me want to share everything.

I sit up a little straighter. “No, I am able to plan out my week and keep my commitments, if Pete does the same.”

Pete lets out a dramatic breath and leans back in his chair, as if now he’s heard everything. “That’s Ali. A huge planner. She’s the only person I’ve ever known who’s surprised that every twenty-four hours it’s time to make dinner again.” He laughs at his little joke.

I open my mouth to speak and nothing comes out. I’ve had nightmares like this where I’m trying to scream but I’m not able. There’s just too much anger behind every word. I’ve kept my mouth shut for so long, it’s almost like my body knows that if I start I won’t stop.

Ethan leans in. “Lacey, I assume you’ve been working with families for a while. Do you think it’s emotionally helpful for Pete’s children to think they’re spending Saturday night with him and then get shuttled home because a big bike ride came up?”

“This is bullshit,” says Pete.

“It’s actually not. I have it in my notes.” Ethan flips through the pages of his legal pad at a deliberately slow pace just to irritate Pete. He runs his pen down each page, nodding, before he turns to the next one. “Here it is. Just this past Saturday night. You decided to keep the children overnight and then returned them immediately after dinner?”

“That’s none of your goddamn business.”

Ethan looks down at his tracksuit, as if it proves that he’s actually in business. “I’m pretty sure it is, Pete.”

I want to reach across the table and smack Pete. Smack him for being arrogant and smug and totally thoughtless. There’s something terrifying underneath all of this anger. I can feel how Pete acting like a jerk makes me miss my mom. And I picture her, with her big smile, saying, “Oh, that’s fine. Let him do his bike ride. You know what would be fun?” I’d let it go. My chest is tight with anger at Pete but also with the unfamiliar discomfort of being angry with my mom. She should have let me speak up. It’s like she trained me to be mute around Pete.

Lacey speaks before I can. “We find that the more consistent the schedule, the easier it is on the kids. They get anxious if they’re not sure about basic things like where they are going to wake up.” Lacey is looking at Ethan like she wants to lick him. This is mildly irritating, but it’s good to have another person on my side.

Pete’s glaring at me, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you going to say anything?”

“Yes.” My voice comes out stronger than I expect, like my anger is a weapon I just found in my purse, and I’m going to give it a try. I look directly at him because I want him to see what’s brewing behind my eyes. “I think we can stay loose around the weeknights, because the soccer schedule changes. But the weekends need to be consistent.”

“Could you commit to having your children from ten a.m. on Saturday morning to ten a.m. on Sunday morning each week?” Ethan asks. His hands are folded, his gaze is steady.

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