I took screenshots.
Every one.
Then sent them to myself.
Twenty minutes later, Ryan walked through the door.
“What’s for dinner, Kelsey?”
I looked at him.
The man who had promised to love me when my body changed.
The man who had watched me labor for hours to bring his daughter into the world.
“Chicken.”
He opened the oven.
“Is it ready?”
“Five minutes. Emma needed feeding, so I started late.”
He sighed.
“Couldn’t you have fed her earlier?”
I stared at him.
“She was hungry when she was hungry, Ryan.”
He closed the oven.
“You’re cranky tonight.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re always tired lately.”
I nearly laughed.
I almost asked whether mocking me with his brothers was less exhausting.
Instead, I adjusted Emma’s blanket.
Ryan held out his arms.
“Want me to take her?”
For a moment, I was surprised.
“Yes.”
He took Emma.
