Page 58 of The Perfect Mistake

“There,” she says. “Who are you fighting today?”

“Willa,” he declares.

I point the spatula in his direction. “No, you’re not. She’s not one of the bad guys. Why don’t you go get her instead, because the pancakes are almost done. That’s a superhero task.”

He blitzes off, and I start plating. “Do you want some?” I ask Isabel.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys. I’m actually heading out in a while to meet Connie.”

“Connie?” Willa asks, marching into the kitchen. She looks at Isabel with no trace of the rancor she’d shown in the beginning. “You’re meeting with my aunt?”

“Yes, we’re going to an early yoga class in an hour.”

“Oh. Is that like ballet?”

“A little bit, but it’s none of the dancing and all of the stretching.”

Willa jumps up onto a chair and grabs a fork. She digs into her pancakes while I get Sam settled. They’re both munching away, but Sam is looking at Isabel while he eats.

“We’re going to the park today,” he tells her. “Wanna come?”

Isabel’s eyes flick to mine for a second before returning to his. “Today is your day with your dad.”

“You can ask Aunt Connie to come along,” Willa says. She nods like that’s settled. “We can all be at the park together.”

“Maybe, yeah. I’ll ask her,” Isabel says.

I push a plate of pancakes across the counter to her, and she accepts it with a small smile.

“Only if you want some,” I say quietly.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. She grabs her plate and comes to join us at the table. She starts cutting into her stack. I dig into my own and try to ignore the way our thighs brush briefly beneath the table.

Sam is looking at her with appraising eyes. “Do you have a brother?” he asks. It’s one of his many beautiful non sequiturs.

Isabel smiles. “Yes. One younger brother and one sister. They’re twins, actually.”

Willa nearly drops her fork. “Twins?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they look the same?”

“Well, no, not really. They’re not identical twins. They’re fraternal, a girl and a boy,” Isabel says.

“Is it nice to have a sister? I’ve always wanted a sister,” Willa says. She’s chatting happily, talking with Isabel without an ounce of animosity. “I’ve asked Dad for one before but he said no.”

“You’ve also asked me for a pet just as often,” I tell her. It doesn’t seem like a particularly deep want either. Sometimes it’s a cat, sometimes a dog, and on a few occasions a guinea pig. I can’t think of anything I want to cohabit with less than a guinea pig.

“Yes, and you always say no,” she says.

Isabel hides her smile behind her hand. “Well, I’m sure your dad knows best. At least most of the time.”

“Yes, and you need a mommy to get a sister,” Willa says sagely. She digs into her pancake with her fork. “And we don’t have a mommy anymore.”

The statement is matter-of-fact. It’s not pained, sad, or bothered. She and Sam are rarely troubled about Victoria, accepting her absence as a fact of life. They have questions. Concerns, sometimes, about what to tell their friends if they get asked. I’ve tried my best to navigate it all.

But while Willa and Sam continue eating with the same happy air, Isabel and I have gone still.

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