On Father's Day, My Husband Played Dad to His Ex's Kid

"I was at the hospital all afternoon. Just left."

"The hospital?"

I spoke up.

"Mm."

"Which one? What department did you check in to?"

For half a second, Zachary's expression went stiff.

"The ER. Pediatric ER."

"A kid burning up with a fever, and you take him to an amusement park?"

The smile finally slid off his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I pulled out my phone, brought up the screenshot of Dorothy Henson's post, and held it in front of him.

"See for yourself."

Zachary took the phone, glanced at it, and his throat bobbed.

"June, is all this really necessary?"

"So I watched someone's kid for one afternoon. What's the big deal? That boy doesn't have a father. It's pitiful."

"Your daughter didn't have a father today either."

I said.

"While she was standing on that stage getting laughed at by her whole class for not having a dad, you were buying another kid cotton candy."

His face changed.

"Here we go again, right? You're starting this nonsense again."

"I was just being kind, helping someone out. Can you stop blowing every little thing out of proportion?"

He reached out to scoop up Vivien.

"Come on, Daddy's taking you both home. Don't stand here getting rained on."

Vivien shrieked and locked her arms around my neck.

"No! I'm not going with him!"

Zachary's hand froze in midair.

"Vivien?"

"You're not my daddy! You're the brother's daddy!"

Zachary's face flushed red.

"That's ridiculous! Did your mom teach you to say that?"

"June, don't push it too far."

I stepped back, putting distance between us.

"Zachary."

"Let's get divorced."

"Tomorrow. The county clerk's office."

He went blank.

Standing there in the rain, holding the umbrella, and then he laughed.

"What did you say? Divorce?"

"You want a divorce just because I did somebody a favor?"

"June, do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?"

He took a step forward.

"What are you going to do without me? Raise a kid alone?"

"You don't even have a job."

Headlights flashed twice behind him.

The ride I'd called had arrived.

I didn't say another word.

I turned, pulled open the back door, and climbed in with Vivien in my arms.

"We can go, please."

The car pulled away, and Zachary was still standing where I'd left him.

We were home soon enough.

I carried Vivien up the stairs.

I was reaching for my keys when I noticed the door wasn't locked.

I remembered throwing both deadbolts when I left this morning.

I pushed the door open. The entryway light was on.

Three pairs of unfamiliar shoes sat scattered by the shoe cabinet.

A pair of women's heels, a pair of kids' sneakers, and a pair of fuzzy slippers.

Those fuzzy slippers were mine.

The limited edition I'd bought and never let myself wear.

Every light in the living room was on, and the coffee table was buried under snack wrappers.

Vivien's building blocks were strewn across the floor, the couch cushions dragged down onto the carpet.

The TV was on, playing a cartoon.

Then I saw Dorothy.

She was wearing my silk pajamas, her hair pinned up high, walking out of the kitchen with a plate of sliced fruit.

When she saw me, she blinked.

"Oh, you're back?"

She smiled and set the plate down on the coffee table.

"Traffic was bad, huh? I cut up some fruit for you two. Sit, sit."

What was she doing in my home?

I was about to ask when Vivien suddenly tore free of my hand and rushed inside.

"Mommy!"

I followed where she ran. Dorothy's son, Jake Abbott, had a black marker in his hand and was scribbling all over Vivien's drawing board.