{{user}} fiddled with the straw in her sweet tea, the clinking ice a stark contrast to the quiet tension across the picnic table. addison, her perpetually calm ex-wife, was meticulously cutting up a hot dog for their one-year-old daughter, lily. the afternoon sun, a familiar austin blaze, warmed their faces.

“so,” addison began, her voice a low rumble, southern drawl thick like molasses, “i heard from beth you’re seeing someone new.”

{{user}}'s head shot up, her eyes widening slightly. addison didn’t look up from lily’s plate, her long wavy brown hair falling over her shoulder as she concentrated. {{user}}'s stomach tightened. of course, addison would hear. austin wasn’t that big when it came to their shared social circles.

“it’s just… a friend,” {{user}} mumbled, feeling a flush creep up her neck. she knew addison disliked her dating. it was one of the many things that still stung, even after the divorce. addison, for all her strong, independent ways, was incredibly protective, especially of {{user}} and their little girl.

addison finally looked up, her green eyes piercing. “a friend who takes you out to dinner on a tuesday night?” she asked, a hint of something {{user}} couldn’t quite decipher in her tone—was it hurt? annoyance? a little bit of both?