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I put up my hands and schooled my tone. “Look. Do you have any questions for Cam that are relevant to his ability to do this job?”

Bryan’s jaw worked. Then he slid his gaze toward Cam. “How’s your driving record?”

Without a word, Cam picked up a manila folder he’d left on the end table, and he handed it over to Bryan.

Bryan opened it, and as he flipped through the pages, there was a mix of calm and irritation in his eyes. As if he were relieved by the contents, but also annoyed that he had less ammunition to reject Cam.

I’d been through the folder myself. In the interest of putting my sons’ well-being ahead of my bias toward Cam, I’d scrutinized every page when he’d given it to me last night.

It included a state and criminal background check, both of which were pristine.

From his last job, he had a state-issued certification allowing him to work with children in the state of Oregon.

His first aid training was up to date, and his CPR qualifications included AEDs.

There was also a copy of his driving record, which had a couple of minor speeding tickets and an accident in which he wasn’t found to be at fault. That was it.

From what I’d read about nanny qualifications, he wasn’t missing a thing. He’d even taken some basic child development courses in college.

For a last-minute Hail Mary live-in nanny, we honestly couldn’t have done any better than Cam.

Bryan perused the pages just like I had, and the silence stretched on awkwardly as he (I guessed) searched for something to pick apart. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he gave Cam grief about the speeding tickets, just for lack of anything else.

Go ahead, Bryan. Then we can also talk about how much my insurance dropped after I took you and your lead foot off my policy.

And that was to say nothing about his boyfriend, who I knew for a fact had driven my children and had nearly run over a fan last season while peeling out of the training center parking lot.

Do it, Bryan. I dare you.

Cam shifted on the couch. “I, um… I have copies of my credit report, too. If you need that.”

Bryan arched an eyebrow, silently asking if Cam was fucking with him. Which he might’ve been—ex-boyfriend notwithstanding, Cam wasn’t usually one to suffer assholes.

“Some people want to see it.” Cam shrugged, glancing at me with an innocent expression. “I’m an open book, so…” He spread his hands.

“I don’t care about your credit.” Bryan tossed the folder onto the coffee table with a quiet slap. “I’m not the one who has to worry about you paying rent. That’s Trev’s problem.”

I fought back an eyeroll. Cam was unsuccessfully fighting back a smile. From the glint of mischief in his eyes, I wondered if he wanted to mention to Bryan that he wouldn’t be paying rent.

Fortunately, he left well enough alone. Knowing Bryan, he’d yank on that thread and decide Cam was just a gold digger. He was here for rent-free access to my house and would only do the bare minimum to keep from getting fired.

A comment like that would be on-brand for Bryan, which made me wonder for the thousandth time this week what in the hell I’d ever seen in him.

I didn’t let that thought linger.

Before I could speak up, Cam said to Bryan, “Listen, I know this a little weird for you. I get it. But Trev is getting me out of a really bad spot. And hopefully I can make things easier for both of you when hockey season starts.” He paused.

“Anything you want to know to make this all easier for you to stomach, just ask. I mean it—I’m an open book, especially because you guys are trusting me with your kids. ”

Bryan blinked, apparently caught off-guard. “Oh. Uh.” He chewed his lip. After a moment, he asked, “Has Trev shown you the binder?”

Cam nodded. “Yesterday. And I read over most of it last night. In fact…” He turned to me.

“I wanted to ask you—there’s a note in the section about Zane’s food texture issues.

Something about an ice cream place and asking them to put toppings on top.

” He furrowed his brow. “I didn’t quite understand what that meant. ”

“Oh, right,” I said. “There’s a place out in Sewickley that mixes toppings into the ice cream. The boys love to go there, but Zane absolutely does not like anything mixed in. So just mention it to the person behind the counter. They’re always cool about it.”

“Oh! Okay. Okay, I thought it must be something like that, but—” He waved a hand. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure I was reading it right.”

I flashed a quick smile. I knew Cam was conscientious about things like that, but knowing he’d actually taken the time to read the binder and notice that kind of small detail was reassuring. It made me even more certain that I’d made the right call bringing him out here.

Apparently it had a similar effect on Bryan. Though he was still clearly not enjoying this, the hostility ebbed minutely.

“He’s really not as picky as he sounds,” Bryan said. “He likes to try new things, and he loves different flavors. Textures just really throw him off.”

“Oh, I get that,” Cam said. “My mom is like that, honestly.”

“Is she?”

“Mmhmm. Growing up, I thought it was normal to always ask for tomatoes on your sandwich only to pick them off half the time.”

Bryan’s lips parted. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. I finally asked her about it when I was a teenager. She said she loves the taste of tomatoes, and they really add to a sandwich, but if the texture is even slightly off…” He made a face and shook his head.

My ex-husband glanced at me. “That kind of sounds like Zane with lettuce.”

“It does,” I said with a nod.

Cam’s gaze flicked back and forth between us. “So he likes it, always asks for it, but will pick it off if it’s not exactly right?”

“If it’s even a little bit wilty…” I gestured like I was throwing something over my shoulder.

Cam wrinkled his nose. “I mean, can you blame him? There is nothing worse than lettuce when it’s all…” He shuddered.

“Oh God.” Bryan made a face. “Now that you mention it…”

I almost gagged myself.

At least that got us onto a more cordial path.

The rest of the conversation was—well, it wasn’t chill and friendly, but it wasn’t so full of swipes or barbs.

By the end, Bryan accepted Cam’s role as our children’s nanny during my custody weeks.

And though he obviously wasn’t thrilled about it, he signed the letter my lawyer had written up that stated as much.

Of course Bryan could still find other reasons to come after me for full custody, but I wasn’t saying no to a paper trail.

“Well.” Bryan faced Cam and extended his hand. “We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Looking forward to it,” Cam said brightly.

They shook hands, and then I showed Bryan out.

Though he didn’t say a word, I’d been married to him too long not to recognize his body language. The sharp footsteps. The hard set of his shoulders. The way he resolutely did not look at me, even when I opened the door for him.

I stepped outside and closed the door behind me so we’d have some relative privacy. “Well?”

He faced me, all his irritation on full display. “What?”

My own irritation threatened to bubble up, but I kept myself calm. “You’ve met him. You’ve agreed to him watching the kids during my custody weeks. Are we good now?”

He huffed and broke eye contact. “It isn’t like I have much choice, do I?”

“This whole situation was your choice,” I reminded him.

“It wasn’t a choice.” Bryan snapped, and there was a hint of hurt at the edge of his voice. “I wasn’t doing it for fun, okay?”

“Then why were?—”

“Because I’m trying to move on with my life,” he gritted out. “And it’s impossible to do when I still spend half the goddamned year at the mercy of your schedule.”

I straightened. “So, what? I’m being unreasonable because I?—”

“It’s not you being unreasonable.” His tone shifted to one full of fatigue and even some defeat. “Joint custody is what it is. I can’t move out of Pittsburgh as long as you’re signed with the team.”

“And I can’t sign with another team because our custody agreement is contingent on my no-move clause. This isn’t easy for either of us.”

“No, it isn’t. But when we’re trading off custody once a week, I can get into that groove.

When it’s at the mercy of hockey, though?

And practices, and team meetings, and every other goddamned thing that drags you out of the house?

” He shook his head emphatically. “I can’t do it, Trev.

I just fucking can’t. You signed with the Rebels.

Not me. I want to be able to live my life without the team having me on the same short leash they have you on. ”

I gritted my teeth. “So you started dating another player?”

“That’s different,” he growled. “Tim comes and goes, just like you did. I can’t do much about that.

But that doesn’t affect my custody of the boys.

” With a heavy sigh, he looked right at me.

“This hasn’t been fun for me, you know. Being divorced.

It’s—it hasn’t been easy, and it hasn’t been fun.

I’m just trying to get my damn life into something more consistent and predictable. ”

I swallowed. I’d been so furious with him—not to mention freaked out—over his ultimatum, I admittedly hadn’t given much thought to where he was coming from.

Not beyond the certainty that he was trying to screw me out of joint custody.

And even though I was tempted to point out that it was his choices and actions that had led to us splitting up, that wasn’t even worth revisiting.

It wasn’t like we could go back, and it sure as shit wasn’t like I wanted to.

As my thoughts caught up, though, I peered at him. “If this is just about getting your schedule into a groove—why the short notice?”

He tsked and rolled his eyes again. “Because hockey season is about to start? And I didn’t want?—”

“And you weren’t willing to give me some time to make a solid long-term plan?

” I flailed a hand. “I get it, okay? But you couldn’t even cope with our current arrangement for a few extra weeks while I locked something down?

” I gestured at the house behind me. “ And you get pissed at me when I do the best I can in the very, very tight window you gave me? What do you want from me, Bryan?”

He held my gaze for several long, uncomfortable seconds.

Then he turned on his heel and headed for his car, throwing over his shoulder, “I’ll see at the usual time to pick up the kids.”

Before I could respond, he was in the car. The engine rumbled to life, and he pulled away, leaving me alone on the porch steps of the house we’d built together.

What the fuck did I ever see in you?

What happened to us?