13. Eric
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ERIC
Diego murmurs quietly into Amanda, like they’re sharing secrets.
It’s a complicity they share where I have no business intruding.
And I don’t need to. It’s written all over his face that they’re talking about me.
That older brother softness that’s so ingrained in him betrays him.
She’s standing half inside his arm, tucked under it like a kid who’s trying to pretend she’s not being held.
Val, meanwhile, is tearing into my knife technique as if I’ve just insulted the concept of mise en place itself.
She’s holding her glass out toward me like a challenge.
I refill it, but when she offers the bottle back, I lift my can instead.
Sparkling water. Limit the noise. I make poor decisions when I drink.
So, step one in deserving Amanda’s kid is, well… drink less.
She raises an eyebrow—maybe mockingly, maybe amused—and mutters, “Huh.”
Val snags a slice of salami, tosses it into her mouth like a coin flip, and gestures toward the oven. “That lasagna gonna be ready on time for dinner?”
“Five minutes,” I say. “Go sit. I’ll bring everything out.”
The air is thick with the smell of roasted garlic and warm butter.
It smells like childhood. Amanda’s, probably.
I’ve never had a nonna. Diego’s already on seconds while I push food around my plate, waiting for Val to detonate.
He’s talking incessantly about this five-day camping and hiking trip.
Val and Amanda are talking about some conference.
Val needs speakers or funding or something or another.
Her eyes keep darting between Amanda and me, squinting.
I’m more than my failures. I still don’t fully believe it. Amanda deserves awesome. The kid deserves awesome. And if I get enough of a hold on myself, I will deserve them both. Because Daray fucking doesn’t.
Val’s eyes are locked on my tight fists. She knows there’s more to this than a casual dinner. If Diego can shut the fuck up about getting skunked, maybe we can get the ball rolling. It’s time. Amanda nudges my foot under the table, wordlessly asking if she should take the lead.
No. I clear my throat, and I accidentally scrape my fork.
At least Diego is quiet now. Val stabs a cherry tomato with surgical precision.
She points the knife first at Amanda, then at me.
But it, of course, lingers on me. “So,” she says casually, “anything you want to fill us in on? Like how domestic you two are now?”
I can see some of the tomato through Val’s half-open mouth as she chews. She’s doing it on purpose. I survey Diego. He has a soft smirk, as if he finds it funny that Medusa hates me. He opens his mouth, about to crack a joke, because he thinks I need rescuing from bullies the way I used to.
“You both know that Amanda is pregnant. There’s a shift in logistics, and we need you to help us keep a lid on the details so things don’t get too out of control.
” Val stares through me, becoming more hostile by the minute.
I’m already fucking this up. I find my professor mode, making it look less of an emotional decision, hoping that’ll earn me some of Val’s approval.
“Amanda and I have decided to co-parent.” I lick my lips. “Together.”
Diego leans back in his chair and claps his hands together. “Fuck yeah. This is great.” His smile takes up his entire face; he is thrilled.
Val doesn’t miss a beat. She just takes another sip of wine and mutters. She turns to him. “Don’t encourage this.”
“I’m not encouraging,” Diego says, opening another beer. “I’m celebrating. This is the best possible version of the dumb shit Eric usually pulls.”
She lifts her glass toward him. “You get a gold star for emotional support.” Diego grins, like she just made his day. “Let me ask this. Is this insanity mutual delusion or just Eric’s?” My chest tightens at truly feeling and seeing the disapproval that I knew was coming.
“I—”
“Val,” Amanda interjects. “We are not delusional. If I wanted an appointment, I’d book one. Eric is my person—mine. It doesn’t need to make sense to you. This baby will be better off with Eric. End of story.”
There’s silent tension, and it’s clear that Val doesn’t like it.
She’s bristling, and she lifts up her chin, itching to counter Amanda, but I am settled and certain because I don’t need Val’s approval.
Medusa can suck a dick, for all I care. I just need Amanda’s partnership, and she just said—showed—that I have it.
The silence would have stretched, but that’s what Diego is for: murdering awkward silences.
He raises his beer and starts clinking glasses with everyone, going on about how he’s going to be a double uncle and how Diego goes well for a boy and a girl.
I don’t know why Val can’t pay more attention to his delusions.
Val is too quiet to be done with me. She sets her wine down, slowly. “So, you want to co-parent,” she says evenly. “Why?”
I glance at Diego, but he shrugs. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Val hums. “That’s a moral framework. I’m asking what it means to you.”
I shrug. “I care about Amanda. I care about the baby.”
“Sure.” She folds her hands. “And if we paused there, that would sound generous. But I know you. So I’m going to ask you again. What are you hoping will come from saying you care?”
I look away. This is what she does. Every time. “I wasn’t hoping for anything.”
“That’s never true. Not even when we think it is.”
I exhale hard through my nose. “Fine. I want her to stay. With me. For longer.” Forever.
Val tilts her head. “So you made a lifelong commitment to a child who isn’t biologically yours in order to avoid saying you didn’t want to lose her?”
My throat goes dry. “It’s not like that.”
“No? What’s it like, then?”
I glance at Diego. He’s watching quietly. No smirk. No rescue. “She told you. I am her person. She is mine. It may not make sense to you, but it does to us.”
She nods. “You’re her person. And which of your needs does being her person fulfill for you, Eric?”
I flinch. And she sees it. Of course she does. But my needs are not for her to know. They’re not even for Amanda to know. I’m more than my failures.
Val’s voice is softer now. Still precise. “Do you think your needs are different from Daray’s? More noble? Worthy?”
Amanda’s mouth is open on the periphery of my vision. Diego places a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head to stop her. I need to fight my own battles.
“You’re building a life raft out of guilt,” she says. “Newsflash. Martyrdom sinks ships. You think this—this sacrifice shows your growth. Obligation is familiar, but wanting something? That terrifies you.”
My mouth is dry. There’s something burning behind my eyes. “You don’t think I’m doing this for me. You think I feel obligated.”
“We all do what we do, primarily for ourselves. We are all selfish at our core.” Val sips some wine, as if she isn’t trying to rip me open at the seams on purpose.
“I think you don’t know how to separate care from self-erasure.
And I think you don’t believe you’re allowed to want anything for yourself unless it hurts.
Until you allow yourself to want things, people, you will hurt them.
In your mind, that’s the only way you can have them. ”
Anger and shame tangle inside me, pounding against my ribs until it’s hard to breathe.
I’m exposed—this is what I battle inside of me.
This constant buzz under my skin that I don’t deserve good things.
But that’s not the reason I want to raise the child with Amanda.
Obligation has never been what’s pulled me to her.
Amanda carries tension in her shoulders, but she’s not jumping in.
Neither is Diego. They’re still trusting I can hold my own against Val.
“You’re wrong,” I say through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to yell.
“Hurting Amanda. That’s what it all comes down to, right?
What I did three years ago? How that hurt her?
That’s between Amanda and me. It’s none of your business, Val.
” I stand up slowly. “What I will say is, I want this kid because it’s Amanda’s.
Because I don’t fucking trust Daray. He’ll forget birthdays.
I won’t. He won’t even sign checks. I’ll be more than a bank account to both of them.
I want to be more for them. My reasons are my own and Amanda’s.
Her reasons for accepting are Amanda’s and mine.
We both want this, so we’re raising our baby together. Get on board or shut up.”
With that, I leave the table to step out onto the balcony. The sliding door clicks shut behind me, muting the low thrum of voices inside. Amanda and Val need space, and I need air. I plant both hands on the railing, chips of old paint stick to my palms.
A minute later, Diego joins me, holding two beers like we’re about to watch a game instead of unpacking the biggest decision I’ve ever made.
“Peace offering,” he says, handing me one. “Or last rites. Either way, you’ve earned it.”
I take it. “You think she’s going to backtrack?”
He cracks his open with the edge of the railing. “Val? No fucking way. Amanda? She won’t.”
I grunt. “Val was two seconds from drafting a court order to have me removed.”
“She still might,” he says with a shrug. “But you got through the meal, so I’d call it a win.”
We stand here for a second, shoulder to shoulder, the hum of the city below adding texture to our silence.
“I meant what I said in there,” I twist the cap open and bring the bottle to my lips, but don’t sip. “This isn’t a play for her. I want this. I want to raise this kid with her, however that ends up looking.”
Diego nods. “I know.”
“That’s it?”
He sips. “What, you want a standing ovation?”
I shake my head, smiling in spite of myself. “I just don’t want to screw this up.”
He leans in slightly, voice low. “Then don’t. And when you start to spiral—because you will—I’ll be there. I’ll slap you out of it and remind you she didn’t ask you to be perfect. She just wants you to show up.”
I stare at the horizon, bottle loose in my grip.
“I still feel like I’m pretending.”
Diego scoffs. “Yeah, well, fake it louder. That’s how everyone learns anything worth a damn.”
I glance over. “You sound like a motivational speaker.”
He grins. “Please. I curse too much, and my humor’s too fucked up. But I am proud of you.”
I don’t say anything. I just nod once, eyes fixed on the light spilling from the apartment.
When we walk back in, Amanda and Val are on the couch, hands linked.
Amanda’s eyes flick to mine. Val doesn’t look away.
Diego drops to the floor beside her, close but not touching.
I take the armchair nearest Amanda, and I cross my arms over my chest so I don’t reach for her.
She strokes the side of Val’s hand, and the shame in my chest expands and tightens its hold on me.
Has Medusa managed to stonewall us? There’s quietness, rather than silence. Just that awkward, weighty pause that waits for someone to make it easier.
Val clears her throat. “I owe you an apology,” she says, and her voice is the same as always—dry, efficient, controlled, but not cold. Not this time. “That wasn’t fair. I’d love to help you see the light my clinic can be, but it wasn’t the way.”
She looks at me when she says it. Her hazel eyes are locked on mine without so much as straying to Amanda or Diego.
I nod once, and maybe it’s pathetic, but that single line—it wasn’t the way—feels like more of an olive branch than I thought I’d get.
Amanda doesn’t let go of her hand. And I can’t help it, olive branch and all. I wonder if Val talked her out of our baby—out of me.
Amanda stretches on the couch, angling my way.
“We don’t want to put you guys in awkward situations,” she says, “But we really need you to be vague about when this… development happened.” Development—because there’s no word for what we are.
Co-parenting seems transactional, and raising a child is too emotional.
So, development it is. I’d be hurt if I weren’t so happy she’s still on board.
“Scout’s honor!” Diego says, holding up his palm solemnly. “So, onto even more fun things. What are you doing with Keith’s wedding? Are you going?”
Just the mention of my half brother’s name makes my shoulders lock with tension.
Amanda shrugs. “I am certainly not going with Daray, that’s for sure. I’m close with the bride, Cece.”
“What is she again?”
Val smacks Diego across the head. “You’re not supposed to say that.”
“Aw,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “You know what I mean.”
“She’s from Queens. You know her?”
“I’m DJing for them. She wants a bunch of cumbia,” Diego explains. “It is my wonderfully unique wedding gift to them.”
“Cece sent two invitations. One for Daray, one for me. Both with plus ones. I thought it was silly. Now, I wonder if she knew.”
All eyes fall on me, like they’re expecting me to share some thoughts on this wedding I know nothing about.
“I’m not invited,” I respond.
“Dude, are you serious?” I nod. Amanda’s gaze on my profile makes my forearms prickle in goose bumps. “Your half brother didn’t invite you? That’s cold!”
“He isn’t cold. He is an asshole, and I’m better off away from him.”
“Val, do you want to come with me? I don’t want to go alone.”
Jealousy blooms inside me, tightening the knots in my stomach that had loosened. She’ll hug Diego, and ask Val out, but I’m sitting right here.
“Mandy, it’s almost two months away. Won’t you be showing?”
“Probably.”
“Does it make sense that your baby daddy won’t come to a wedding with you?”
Diego is smiling at me. He’s so proud of himself for bringing this up. Amanda’s whole body shifts to face me. I move my left arm so it inches closer to where she is—an invitation she doesn’t take. I sit in silence, waiting, while Medusa’s judgment takes place behind her squinting eyes.
“Would you come with me, Eric? I know it won’t be fun for you.”
“Sure. If you’re certain you’d rather go with me than Val.” Please, ask me to come with you.
“Yes, I just didn’t think you’d want to.”
“It’ll be fine. I don’t need to come near Keith or my father. We’ll eat good food and have fun.” I smile at Amanda.
“Val, you’ll come with me?” Now it’s Diego’s turn.
“What?” she responds to him. “Why would I go anywhere with you?”
“Because I am delightful?”
“You’re delightless, is what you are.”
“Think about it, Val. Daray will be there, Eric’s half brother. It’s gearing up to be a full day of drama. Are you sure you want to miss it?” I ask. Diego helped me out, so I throw him a bone.
Val stares at me blankly, as if weighing the pros and cons of calling me out on what I’m doing.
Then, she tilts her head to look at Diego.
His cocky grin is replaced by wide, glossy dark brown eyes, more like a wounded golden retriever than the witted man I usually see.
Val exhales. “What’s the dress code for this? ”
Well, I guess the four of us are going to this wedding.