I pulled it into the kitchen.
“What is this?” I whistled. “You’re my age. You’re 20 years older than my daughter. And you’re my ex.”
He raised his hands. “Lena, I swear, I didn’t know she was your daughter at first.”
“At first,” I repeated. “Then you understood.”
He swallowed. “Yeah. But I love her.”
Before I could unload on him, Emily came in, arms crossed.
“Are you questioning my boyfriend?”
“I know it’s strange.”
“Emily,” I said, “that’s Mark from high school. We’ve been dating for over a year.”
