I’m chopping tomatoes for the salad when the doorbell rings. I wipe my hands on a dish towel and begin making my way to the front door. Surprisingly, I’m intercepted by Clara. She swings open the door, and I’m taken aback by the sight of Jonah and Elijah.

What is he doing here? Did he really think the dinner was still on after last night?

I expect Clara to slam the door in his face, but she doesn’t. He hands her a box, and even though I’m on my tiptoes in the doorway to the kitchen, trying to see what it is, I have no idea what he’s just given her.

“Seriously?” She sounds excited. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.

“I had an old phone in a drawer at the house,” Jonah says.

“This is the latest model, though.”

“I took the old one.”

Clara lets him in, and I slip back into the kitchen. Why did he buy her a phone? Is that his way of winning her over? That’s not how you parent, Jonah.

“I already put your old sim card in it, so it should be ready to go.”

“Thanks.”

It’s nice hearing a hint of joy in her voice, but it’s hard to feel relief when Jonah is walking into the kitchen behind me.

“You bought her a new phone?” I ask, without turning around.

“She dropped hers today in class. It broke, so I gave her one of mine.”

I suck in air before turning around to face him. I hate how I feel around him after last night. As brief as that kiss was, it feels like it’s still lingering. Like I can still taste him on my lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Clara called about an hour ago. She said her birthday dinner was still happening.”

I look in the direction of Clara’s room with narrowed eyes. “What is she up to?”

Jonah shrugs, adjusting Elijah in his arms. “Maybe she’s okay with it.”

“With what?”

“With us.”

“She’s not. And there is no us.” With that, I spin around and finish making the salad.

Jonah takes a seat at the table and begins playing with Elijah by making faces at him. It’s adorable and awful. I can’t stop stealing glimpses of him because his interaction with his son is breathtaking. Maybe even more so because I know Elijah isn’t even his biological child, yet the love Jonah has for him is the same as if he were. I hate that Elijah is a result of Chris and Jenny’s betrayal, but I love that it doesn’t matter to Jonah.

Seeing him with Elijah is making me think too many good thoughts about him, so I walk over and take Elijah from Jonah, just so I can stop the feelings that are rocketing through me. I sit at the table and turn Elijah toward me. He smiles. He gets excited to see me now, and it melts my heart every time.

“You need help with anything?” Jonah asks.

“You can put icing on the cake,” I suggest. Anything to get him out of my line of sight.

Jonah just finishes icing the cake when the doorbell rings again. We both look at each other with confusion. “You expecting anyone else?”

I shake my head, then hand him Elijah before I head to the front door. But once again, Clara is rushing across the living room, beating me to the door. When she opens it, I freeze.

Miller Adams is standing in the doorway. He looks nervous, but I have no time to register his appearance or even yell at him before Clara grabs his hand and pulls him into the house. Jonah is standing next to me now. Clara is dragging Miller toward the hallway when Miller gives us a half wave.

“Hey, Mr. Sullivan.” He swallows, and his voice is quieter when he addresses me. “Mrs. Grant.”

We don’t even have the opportunity to say anything back because Clara has pulled him out of the living room.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.

“About what?” Jonah asks.

I look at him incredulously, but then I realize he has no idea what Clara did last night. I push on his shoulder, shoving him back to the kitchen. He turns to face me, and I’m trying to keep my voice down despite my anger. “I caught them in bed together this morning,” I hiss. “There were condoms on the table. Clara was practically naked. He slept in her room the entire night!”

Jonah’s eyes widen. “Oh. Wow.”

I fold my arms together and slump down in one of the breakfast nook chairs. “She’s testing me.” I look up at Jonah for a little bit of advice. “Do I make him leave?”

Jonah shrugs. “It’s just dinner. It’s not like he’s gonna get her pregnant at the table.”

“You’re way too lenient.”

“It’s her birthday. She was upset with us last night, so she probably invited him over out of spite. At least he’s here and you’ll have a chance to get to know him better.”

I roll my eyes and push myself out of the chair. “Dinner is ready. Go tell them before he gets her pregnant.”

This is so awkward. Not only because I know Miller more than likely took my daughter’s virginity last night but because Jonah and I are barely speaking. We haven’t discussed what happened between us, and that hangs thickly in the air.

Clara has only given me clipped answers when I try to talk to her, so I finally stopped asking her questions because it was embarrassing. Miller and Clara aren’t even really talking because she’s scarfing down her lasagna like we’re at a food-eating contest.

Jonah is holding Elijah, feeding him a bottle as he eats. It’s cute, so I stare down at my plate and avoid looking at them.

“How’s the film project coming along?” Jonah asks.

Miller shrugs. “Slowly. We haven’t come up with a solid idea yet, but we’ll get there.”

Yeah, because you’re too busy doing other things, I want to say.

Clara points her fork at Miller’s plate. “Eat faster.”

I can see the confusion in his expression, but he picks up his fork and takes another bite.

I know exactly what she’s doing. She’s playing nice, hoping all will be forgiven if she spends her birthday dinner with me. She figures if she doesn’t put up a fight, then I won’t put up a fight when dinner is over, and she wants to leave with Miller.

She’s not leaving with him. Not a chance in hell.

Clara finishes her food and stands up. She walks her plate into the kitchen. When she comes back, she looks at Miller. “You finished?” He’s midbite when she pulls his plate from him regardless.

“There’s still cake to eat,” I say, pointing at the three-layer chocolate cake in the center of the table.

Clara stares at me. Hard. She grabs Miller’s fork from him without breaking her stare, and she digs it into the center of the cake, then shoves a bite into her mouth.

“Delicious,” she says wryly. She drops the fork and takes Miller’s hand. “Ready?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“A ball game,” Clara says.

“It’s not a game night.”

Clara tilts her head. “You sure about that, Mom? I mean, you weren’t even sure it was my birthday this morning.”

“I knew it was your birthday. I was just momentarily shaken by the fact that your boyfriend slept in your bed last night.”

Clara smirks. “Oh, we didn’t sleep.”