Olivia stood in the middle of her apartment, one hand holding a juice box and the other cradling a wailing toddler. Her two-year-old daughter, Ellie, was in full meltdown mode because her favorite stuffed unicorn had mysteriously disappeared. Olivia knew exactly who was to blame.
As if on cue, Fitz burst through the door, carrying the offending unicorn under one arm and a half-eaten burrito in the other.
"Relax, I found it in my car," Fitz announced, as if this was a heroic act worthy of a medal. He handed the unicorn to Ellie, who immediately stopped crying and hugged it as though her life depended on it.
"You took her favorite toy and left it in your car?" Olivia snapped, her voice dripping with disbelief. "What kind of monster does that?"
"Calm down, Liv," Fitz said with a smirk, clearly enjoying himself. "It's not like I left her on the roof. This time."
Olivia's glare could have melted steel. "You're so lucky murder is illegal, Fitz."
"Yeah, yeah, but I'd look amazing in a mugshot."
This was their dynamic—an endless loop of sarcasm, exasperation, and just enough begrudging cooperation to keep their daughter fed, clothed, and vaguely well-adjusted. Co-parenting with Fitz was like riding a roller coaster that only went in reverse.
They weren't together anymore, but somehow, they couldn't stay out of each other's lives. Fitz was the kind of guy who'd drop everything to pick up Ellie from daycare if Olivia was stuck in traffic, but he'd also "accidentally" teach her how to say words like "butt" and "booger" just to drive Olivia insane.
Meanwhile, Olivia was the picture of a type-A mom, right down to the color-coded meal plans and Pinterest-perfect birthday parties. But she had her own quirks, like muttering snarky comments under her breath whenever Fitz was around. She couldn't help it; Fitz brought out the worst in her. Or the best, depending on who you asked.
"Hey, Ellie," Fitz said, crouching down to his daughter's level. "Did you know Mommy's mad because she secretly misses me?"
Ellie giggled, clutching her unicorn. "Miss Daddy!"
Olivia rolled her eyes so hard she almost saw her brain. "Yeah, I miss you like I miss food poisoning."
"Admit it, Liv," Fitz said, standing up and flashing his infuriating grin. "You'd be bored out of your mind without me."
"Oh, I'd find ways to cope," Olivia shot back. "Maybe I'd finally take up that knitting hobby. You know, the one I abandoned after spending two years with a man-child who can't even spell 'responsibility.'"
"R-e-s-p-e-c-t," Fitz sang, because of course he did.
Despite their constant bickering, they somehow made it work—for Ellie's sake, if nothing else. They both loved their daughter more than they hated each other, which was saying something.
There were moments, rare but real, when they remembered why they'd fallen for each other in the first place. Like the time Ellie came down with a fever, and Fitz stayed up all night with Olivia, trading off shifts to make sure their daughter was okay. Or the time Fitz showed up unannounced with a dinosaur-shaped cake for Ellie's birthday, simply because she'd mentioned dinosaurs once.
But those moments didn't erase the fact that they were like oil and vinegar—or more accurately, like gasoline and a lit match.
As Fitz left that day, Olivia called after him, "Don't forget you're watching Ellie tomorrow while I go to the dentist!"
"Wouldn't miss it," Fitz called back, turning to give her one last wink. "You know, co-parenting with you is like winning the lottery."
Olivia snorted. "Yeah? Must be one of those lotteries where the prize is a lifetime supply of migraines."
And as the door closed behind him, Olivia couldn't help but laugh. Because as much as Fitz drove her crazy, she couldn't imagine her life—or Ellie's—without him in it.
Sometimes, toxic wasn't the right word. Sometimes, it was just complicated. And messy. And, unfortunately, a little bit funny.