“Josie’s here,” I called out to Whitney, who was putting the pasta in a bowl for Katie.
“Hi Josie,” Whitney greeted.
Josie hurried over to where she was preparing Katie’s dinner. “Let me do that. You sit down and eat. I can take care of my girl. That’s what moms do.”
“Maybe you could stop and say hi to your girl first,” I said, not trying to hide my sarcasm. Josie was so transparent. Whitney threatened her.
“Of course. I was just about to,” Josie retorted defensively. She knelt in front of Katie, making silly faces at her. Katie laughed, holding her hands out. Josie took one and held it awkwardly. “Hi, baby girl,” she cooed.
“Hi!” Katie exclaimed. She was getting used to Josie. She would smile and play with her without hiding her face, but she still wanted either me or Whitney to hold her when she was tired and wanting to go home. She continued to seek Whitney to play with first. I knew it pissed Josie off, but what did she expect? She had no relationship with Katie.
“Someone’s happy to see their momma,” Josie said, wiggling her fingers in Katie’s face to make her laugh again. Whitney and I looked at each other over Josie’s head. Whitney rolled her eyes, and I tried not to snort.
“Did you want to give Katie her dinner?” Whitney asked when it was clear Katie was over Josie’s antics and was starting to get fussy because she was hungry.
“Of course,” Josie replied, sounding indignant. She got to her feet and took the bowl of cheesy pasta. She hesitated. “Does she eat it with her fingers?”
I opened the silverware drawer and pulled out a child’s fork. “You can try having her use this, but most likely yes, she’ll use her fingers.”
“Kyle, can you help me dish up the Chinese?” Whitney asked, pulling plates down from the cabinet.
“That’s so weird that you call him Kyle. I’ve only ever heard his parents call him that,” Josie piped up. I forced myself not to intervene as she dumped the pasta on the highchair tray and handed Katie the fork.
“It’s what I’ve always called him.” Whitney shrugged.
“Right, because you’ve known each other for a long time.” Josie looked from Whitney to me, her eyes narrowed.
We brought the food over to the table and sat down. “Help yourself, Josie.” I started filling my plate. Katie was smashing the pasta with her hand, but Josie wasn’t paying attention. She was too busy snagging the crab Rangoon.
Whitney got up and went to Katie, wiping her face. “Here, Boo, use your fork like a big girl,” she said softly, taking the utensil and showing her how to use it. She fed Katie a few bites before handing the fork to her. When Katie used it, Whitney clapped in approval. “Good job!”
Josie’s expression soured. “Boo? What is she, a ghost?” She laughed.
Neither Whitney nor I responded. Josie was being uncharacteristically combative this evening. During the other visits, while she made it clear she wished Whitney wasn’t there, she hadn’t been outright rude.
Josie polished off the Lo Mein and wiped her mouth, looking around the downstairs. “Glad to see it hasn’t changed much. I always loved this house. Remember the first time we came to check it out? I told you that you were nuts to want to take on this project, but you promised me you’d turn it into a beautiful home for our baby and me. You were right. You did.” Josie put her hand on mine as if we were sharing a moment.
She sure was laying it on thick.
I slid my hand out from beneath hers. “I remember you throwing a fit about moving in here actually. You hated everything about it.” I wasn’t about to take her manipulated trip down memory lane. She was full of shit.
Katie suddenly gave a loud cry. There was an orange spot on her cheek from where she accidentally hit herself with her fork full of cheesy noodles. Big, fat tears rolled down her face. Josie started to reach for her, but Katie started screaming, “No! No!”
“Come to Dada,” I soothed, going to pick her up, but Katie wasn’t having that either.
“No, Dada!” she wailed, still sobbing.
I looked at Whitney, smiling at her. “You’re up, babe.”
Josie watched with obvious irritation as Whitney picked Katie up. My daughter instantly tucked her face into Whitney’s neck and started playing with her hair, which she had started doing when she was tired.
“Let me go clean her up, and I’ll put her down in the pack n’ play to rest for a bit. Nommy took her to the petting zoo today, so she’s probably exhausted.” Without waiting for a response, Whitney turned to do what she had done a hundred times before. Take care of my daughter.
“I can do that—” Josie started to jump in.