Rob stood in the kitchen, making waffles for the girls. Zoe was nowhere in evidence, but Evie had perched herself on a kitchen stool and was watching his every move. In fact, it was unnerving, the way her eyes were following him. Her eyes were exactly like Eliza’s eyes, so it felt to him like it was Eliza watching him, Eliza peering into the black and sullied depths of his soul.
“Your phone’s ringing!” said Evie. She glanced at the screen. “It’s Deirdre. Should I get it?”
Rob reached across the island and snatched the phone from Evie’s hand. “No!” he said. “No, you should not get it.” His heart was thumping like a steelpan, and his pounding head felt like it had its very own heartbeat. “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Okay,” said Evie uncertainly. “Sorry.” She flicked her eyes back and forth, back and forth, just like Eliza did when she was hurt.
“Sorry,” said Rob. “Sorry, Evie, I didn’t sleep well last night, I’m a little tired. I’m just not ready to deal with today’s plans yet.” If I didn’t sleep well could serve as a euphemism for I am aching, then, true, he hadn’t slept well. He couldn’t believe he’d gone out drinking with Deirdre. He couldn’t believe that he’d let that kiss happen, that he’d done something that would hurt Eliza. Eliza, whose father was dying and who would do anything to help him. Eliza, who had dropped out of medical school to raise their children; who gave a killer shoulder rub; who made a lemon crème br?lée that was to die for; who laughed at ninety-nine percent of his jokes because she actually thought they were funny…Eliza. “Okay, sweetie? Do you accept my apology?”
She considered him and said, “Yup.”
“Good. Thank you.” He would deal with Deirdre later.
“I just can’t remember,” he said aloud to himself, “if you put the oil in the waffle maker before or after you heat it up…”
“Ask Judith,” Evie said.
Rob was pretty certain the closest Judith ever came to a waffle maker was Sunday brunch at the Ritz-Carlton.
“Ask me what?” came Judith’s voice, followed closely by Judith herself. It was seven thirty in the morning but Judith was in full makeup, stylish white pants, and a cerulean tank top with a matching cardigan. She looked like she was on her way to a private Caribbean island.
“Ask you how to use the waffle maker!” said Evie. “Daddy’s trying.”
“I know how to use the waffle maker,” said Rob. “I’m not trying; I’m doing. Morning, Mom. How are you?”
“I feel incredible,” Judith said. “Just wonderful. I took an Ambien, and I clocked ten solid hours. I feel like a new person. Your guest room is like a tomb.”
“Great,” said Rob.
“In a good way.”
“Better.”
“I’m guessing you were out until all hours,” said Judith. “You look awful.”
Evie swiped Rob’s phone and disappeared from the kitchen. “I’ll be back,” she said. “For the waffles.”
Rob tried to make his voice sound detached, nonchalant, and, above all, very, very monogamous. “Not too late,” he said to Judith.
Rob tried not to look at Judith’s raised eyebrow. He was an adult! He was allowed to go out if he wanted to! He worked the first set of waffles carefully out of the maker and set one on a plate. “Evie!” he called. “Breakfast!”
Evie returned, put Rob’s phone back on the counter, and said, “Mom called.”
His heart vaulted. “She did? Why didn’t you tell me?” Probably Eliza didn’t want to talk to him—probably she’d sensed from afar that he was a despicable, unlovable human being.
Evie knitted her brows together. “You said you didn’t want to talk to anyone, so that’s what I told her.”
“Did she say anything?”
Evie climbed onto a kitchen stool. “She said she’s sorry. And she’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” said Rob. With a flourish he produced the maple syrup and poured it over the waffle in the shape of an E. The E didn’t last long, because it soon settled into the grooves of the waffle, but Rob was a great believer in the It’s the thought that counts philosophy of life.
Evie studied the waffle and smiled. She could see the E. “Oh! I forgot one thing. She said the work you do is very important.”
“She what?”
“She said the work you do is very important.”
“Interesting,” said Judith. She was attempting to make herself a coffee. “So where’d you go last night, anyway?”
“I met up with some of the guys—”
“Which guys?” asked Evie.
“Huh?”
“Which guys did you meet up with? Any of my friends’ dads?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so, there were a bunch of us. Now eat, before it gets cold.”
But Evie persisted. “Well, which guys? I bet I know some of their kids.”
“Eat, Evie. Just eat.”
Judith fiddled for a while with the cappuccino machine and said, “Heavens, Rob, this is so complicated. You should get the kind with the capsules.”
“Mommy says those are wasteful,” said Evie. She took a single bite and shook her head, laying down her fork carefully next to her plate, as though she were setting the table for a formal dinner party. “These aren’t right,” she said. “These don’t taste the way they do when Mommy makes them.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re missing something. Maybe cranberries?”
“I don’t think you put cranberries in waffles,” said Rob doubtfully. (Did you?)
“Mommy does.”
“No, she doesn’t,” said Zoe, who had slunk down the stairs in that feline way of hers and into the kitchen without any of them seeing her. Her hair was sleep-tangled but her skin and eyes were luminous. The unfairness of youth. Any day now Zoe was going to wake up to find that she’d turned into a full-fledged beauty. The thought of that made Rob’s stomach twist, so he tried hard to think of the way Zoe used to dance along to Yo Gabba Gabba! and how she still slept with her very first stuffed animal, a blue elephant named Marvin. He said, “Morning, Zoe. Hungry?”
Zoe stretched and yawned prettily and said, “Not yet. I’ll just have orange juice.”
Rob was reaching for the orange juice and trying to keep an eye on the next batch of waffles when his phone buzzed. Deirdre, again? (Bad.) Eliza? (Better.)
“Oooh,” said Judith. “Christine Cabot is calling you.” (Worse.) “Shall I answer?”
“No,” said Rob. He felt dehydrated. The inside of his head felt like it was covered in peach fuzz. He downed the orange juice he’d just poured for Zoe and, when Zoe frowned, he reached into the cupboard for another glass.
“Then you probably should,” said Judith.
Rob let the call go to voice mail. “I’ll call her back.”
Judith eyed him from over the rim of her mug. “Don’t let the grass grow under your feet, Robbie. I know she’s feeling very anxious.”
“That’s a funny thing to say,” said Evie. “By the way, these waffles are actually delicious. I was wrong before.”
“Which part is funny?” asked Judith.