Queen Petty

Lily Thompson

I barely looked at him when I came downstairs.

Still moving around like the air wasn’t crackling between us. Like he hadn’t stood shirtless in my kitchen, looked at me like he wanted to pin me against the fridge, and then left me spiraling for the last thirty minutes.

No, he was tying Isabella’s shoelaces now, humming some ridiculous superhero theme song like

“Ready for school, Bells?” he asked, patting her head.

She beamed. “Ready, Uncle Riri!”

He looked up at me. “Want me to warm up the car?”

“No.” I grabbed my bag, tight-lipped. “We’ll take a cab.”

He blinked. “In this weather?”

I stepped past him. “Come on, Isabella.”

My daughter gave him a reluctant wave and jogged to catch up to me. I heard him sigh behind us.

We walked down the street, the sky heavy with grey clouds. I stood on the sidewalk, trying to flag down a cab.

None showed up.

I waved again. Still nothing.

Isabella whined beside me. “Mommy, my socks are sliding in my shoes.”

“I know, sweetheart. Just a little longer.”

Another car passed. Not a cab.

Then I heard it. The purr of an engine pulling up beside us.

Ryan’s car.

Of course.

He rolled the window down and leaned over. “Still no luck with the cab, huh?”

I didn’t answer. I kept walking.

He followed.

“Lily,” he called, slow and amused. “You’re really gonna walk the whole way with a six-year-old and a half-limping shoe?”

Isabella groaned. “Mommy, can we just get in the car? This is like, super dramatic.”

I stared at her. She stared back.

Then she flung open the backseat door and climbed in without another word.

I nearly exploded. “Isabella!”

She buckled her seatbelt, gave me a tired look, and said, deadpan, “Please join us, Queen Petty. We have air-conditioning.”

Ryan choked trying not to laugh. I nearly threw my purse at him.

And then it started to drizzle.

Of course it did.

I stood there for a few seconds, pride and humidity clashing in my lungs.

I sighed and turned around.

Then I yanked the passenger door open and threw myself in.

“I hate you,” I muttered to him, pushing wet hair from my face.

“Sure,” he said with a grin. “But I drive better than the weather.”

We pulled up in front of Isabella’s school ten minutes later after enduring all the singing and laughing Ryan and Isabella did without me. I was still damp, still pissed.

“Have a great day, Bells,” I said as cheerfully as I could, turning around to face her.

But she was already halfway across Ryan’s chest, hugging him tight.

“Bye, Uncle Riri! You make school mornings the BEST!”

My smile twitched.

I got a side hug. A distracted, one-arm thing.

The silence in the car grew thick as we drove toward Denzol.

He whistled a tune.

I snapped.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He glanced at me, feigning innocence. “Driving?”

I glared.

He sighed. “Lily, I’m not trying to fight with you every five minutes. Can’t we at least try to be… normal?”

“There’s nothing normal about this, Ryan.” My voice sharpened. “The boundaries I set still stand.”

He went quiet.

“I meant it when I said we only talk about Isabella or work. Nothing more.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Right.”

“Right,” I echoed.

But we both knew the silence after wasn’t just silence.

It was everything unspoken simmering under the skin.