By the time Paige gets home from work, my brain has been stuck with a swirling 'loading' icon for most of the day. Throughout playgroup, lunch, and even during naptime, I couldn't focus on anything concrete. The day-to-day motions were there, but my heart hasn't been in anything.

Even though I dread saying the words out loud, I know what I've got to do. The situation I'm in isn't going to magically fix itself. Imogen is Chloe's mum, and that ties me to Imogen forever. That notion was a comfort when she first told me she was pregnant. No matter what, we'd always be connected. Now, I don't know how I feel, but avoiding her isn't going to change a thing.

After dinner, I do the dishes while Paige watches the kids. She's been quiet since she got home, and I wonder whether Jack has been leading his colleagues down the garden path again. Not uncommon. At least every few weeks, Paige comes home bothered over some aspect of office politics she can't seem to work around. We usually talk it out over a beer or a glass of wine once the kids are in bed.

If I ever meet him, I'll office politics him with my fist. Can't be doing with the diplomacy Paige preaches. Sod that. He's made too many of her days at work miserable, and he's been the source of a lot of the extra hours during evenings and weekends. Got no patience for people who believe the world owes them something for nothing.

After the kids are in bed, Paige and I watch a bloody awful documentary about how livestock is raised and grinded into the burgers I eat. If she's trying to turn me into one of those people who don't eat meat, she'll have to work a touch harder. Though I won't be saying yes to another documentary like this—not taking any chances she'll succeed. I can only stomach so many mournful brown cow eyes as they're being led to slaughter.

"How was your day?" Paige asks, and I realize we've barely spoken since she got home. I've been so caught up in my own thoughts and managing the kids, that we haven't nattered on about our days like we normally would.

"Strange," I admit. "Been a bit in my head about Imogen turning up."

Paige fiddles with the remote before turning off the telly.

"I reckon I should meet with her," I say, diving into the deep end. "We've got to sort out custody, hopefully without hiring solicitors."

"I guess you can't stop her from seeing Chloe."

"Not sure how the conversation with Imogen will go. Would you—would you keep Chloe? I'd rather she wasn't there in case we don't get on."

Paige rotates on the settee so she's facing me, and I notice how pale she's gotten. "Ash, what if she wants you back? Wants to try again?"

"I can't see that happening. Given what's gone on, I don't see her wanting that." The thought hasn't crossed my mind. I've been too focused on determining how I feel to worry about whatever she might or might not want.

Paige swallows and worries her lips.

"Nothing's changed between you and me." But her expression isn't comforting. For a moment, my heart seizes in my chest. "Unless..." I search her face. "Unless you want it to."

"I don't want..." She takes a shaky breath. "To stand in the way of whatever you need or want."

"You're not." I frown.

"If you change your mind—"

"I won't."

"She's only just come back, and I know how hard it was for you when she left."

"That's got nothin' to do with us." Even as the last word leaves my lips, I know I'm not being completely honest. Having Imogen return is confusing on several levels, but I know how happy I've been the last few months with Paige. I'm not trading that in. "Did something happen at work today? Jack being a wanker again? You don't seem like yourself."

Paige draws her fingers down the sides of her face until they meet under her chin. "I had a meeting with HR today. They've finally got a new code of conduct for employees to sign. No signature. No job."

"Blimey. That's a good result for you. Might be able to get the project back on track. You must be chuffed."

"Definitely a step in the right direction. A little worried about the fall out. He's swayed a few people on the team to his way of thinking."

I know what it's like to have someone sway others to their side. When Imogen left me and Chloe is a textbook case. Her friends and family mostly abandoned us. Even thinking about it makes my blood start to boil. A few of them came back around for my birthday after Paige reached out to them, but I was left twisting in the wind by too many.

If I keep stewing on this, I'll ruin my night with Paige, so I take her hand, and I lead her upstairs. When we get to her room, I slide my hands underneath her shirt, but instead of reciprocating, she draws me into a tight hug.

"Paige?" There's something behind the hug that I don't understand.

"I'm kind of tired," she says, drawing away from me and kissing my cheek.

I watch her move around the bedroom, suddenly unsure of what's happening. Not that she's never been too tired before. It's happened once or twice, but this doesn't feel like those other times. The thing about me and Paige is that I know I could ask her, and if I prodded at all, she'd tell me.

But I don't know if I want to push for a reason behind the distance she's wedging between us when the situation between us feels volatile. I don't want to lose her or this job, and I don't want to push her in any way that might lead in either direction. As long as this gap doesn't stay, one night is nothing. Keep my feet steady on the ground.

"Do you want me to go to my own room?" It's been months since that question has passed my lips, but it's as close as I can get to asking her what's going on.

"No." She gives me a little smile as she draws an oversized shirt over her head. "Not unless you want to."

She's not going to make it easy on me tonight, but I'm not going to make it easy on her either. Maybe she wants the space, but if she doesn't ask, I'm not giving it.

I shed my shirt and my pants, and I climb into the bed behind her. Without asking if it's okay, I draw her tight against me, and the smell of honey in her hair is a balm for my anxiousness. Maybe she is just tired, and I'm letting my own uncertainties seep into places they don't belong.

"I'm really proud of you," I say against her neck. "Seeing things through with HR to take care of Jack."

She runs her hand along my arm that's looped around her waist, and she links her fingers with mine on her stomach. "I'll watch Chloe so you can talk to Imogen." Her voice is thick. "I don't think I answered you earlier."

"Thank you," I murmur against her neck, and she squeezes my fingers in response.

Then we lie in the dark, neither of us talking and neither of us sleeping, and my stomach clenches with the realization that things might be changing between us in ways that I don't want.

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