The month had gone by and there was still a question of what she intended to do about quite literally everything.
She'd told Ari that she intended to find someone to have an affair with, but that wasn't true, and she knew it would only be a matter of time before he asked her about it if only because she'd tied her affair to a want for a baby (a terrible decision, really). She also still had the matter of Elliott's biological father to deal with, and - well, there were still questions about when or if.
Fortunately the turmoil had smoothed for the most part, and she was able to return to her regular routine without changes that anyone might find suspicious. She worked, came home, spent time with Elliott, ate dinner, put him to bed, promptly fell asleep herself, and then repeated the process. Routine and predictability were staples of a happy life, so at least she had those. There were other variables she would have to deal with eventually, but until there was no choice to acknowledge them she would continue in her bliss—which at the moment looked like her on her loveseat, Elliott passed out on the floor after breakfast, and a book in her hand. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to find time to herself nowadays; she'd had the book for three weeks and she was just able to open it.
And then she closed it promptly, the sound of the fireplace triggering the protective maternal instincts that she hadn't been able to rid of even a year and a half after giving birth. Only - it was Zelda. She took a breath and sat back in her chair, her brows furrowed in confusion. Zelda did not usually seek her out for help.
"I assume it's urgent?" she asked. It must have; otherwise Zelda would have told her she was coming.
She'd told Ari that she intended to find someone to have an affair with, but that wasn't true, and she knew it would only be a matter of time before he asked her about it if only because she'd tied her affair to a want for a baby (a terrible decision, really). She also still had the matter of Elliott's biological father to deal with, and - well, there were still questions about when or if.
Fortunately the turmoil had smoothed for the most part, and she was able to return to her regular routine without changes that anyone might find suspicious. She worked, came home, spent time with Elliott, ate dinner, put him to bed, promptly fell asleep herself, and then repeated the process. Routine and predictability were staples of a happy life, so at least she had those. There were other variables she would have to deal with eventually, but until there was no choice to acknowledge them she would continue in her bliss—which at the moment looked like her on her loveseat, Elliott passed out on the floor after breakfast, and a book in her hand. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to find time to herself nowadays; she'd had the book for three weeks and she was just able to open it.
And then she closed it promptly, the sound of the fireplace triggering the protective maternal instincts that she hadn't been able to rid of even a year and a half after giving birth. Only - it was Zelda. She took a breath and sat back in her chair, her brows furrowed in confusion. Zelda did not usually seek her out for help.
"I assume it's urgent?" she asked. It must have; otherwise Zelda would have told her she was coming.
