Page 64 of Truly Madly Magically

“I do not,” Sadie says over her large-rimmed glasses I know for a fact she doesn’t actually need. She immediately stares back down at the book in her lap, which looks like it’s at least a thousand pages long. She likes to make a statement at a football game.

“You’re breaking my heart, Sadie,” Zander replies, squeezing in beside me as I sit down next to her.

Sadie rolls her eyes, but there’s a little blush on her cheeks. On her other side, little Gigi sees it and giggles.

“Are you the high school boyfriend we all hate?” Avery asks innocently enough. Just truth, nothing overtly malicious about it.

I really do love them.

Zander laughs. “Guilty as charged.”

“So why are you here?” Madyson demands, leaning around Avery. She’s tossing a lacrosse ball back and forth between her hands. Bill calls her Sonny—claiming it’s just a take on her name and not the manifestation of his deepest, most unreachable desire to have a son. It’s clear she’s his only sporty hope. Though he’s all for Brynleigh cheering, because it means he can come to high school football games and pretend he’s a young stud all over again.

“Where is Bill?” I ask, wishing I didn’t feel the need.

“Your father is down there talking to the football coach,” Stephanie says, waving down toward the field. Stephanie is always kind. Warm. Desperate. She never corrects me or asks me not to call Bill by his first name, but when I do, she always responds with your father.

I wish I didn’t respect that.

The game starts, and I expect Bill to climb back up to join us, but he stays down by the field. I try to focus on Brynleigh, not his bald head shining in the bright lights of the football field. Or the game that claims Zander’s attention immediately, the way any and every sporting event always does.

I cheer and whistle right along with Stephanie, because she looks so proud and Brynleigh is down there flushed with pleasure and I...am having a daughter of my own. I might hope that she won’t be in the market for two-hour hairdos and this, but maybe it’s good to practice all the ways to be happy for your kid even when it’s not the way you would be happy.

Assuming you know how to be happy, says Ruth in my head. I don’t turn around to look for her. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

That’s a little aggressive, I retort. For a jumped-up chicken dish.

I return my attention to the game, the entirety of which passes—complete with cheering and marching bands and all the rest of it—without an appearance from Bill. This is typical. Bill likes his compartments to stay compartmentalized. A blended family was never in his toolbox, no matter how Stephanie wishes otherwise.

We climb down the bleachers with the crowd, Zander’s hand on my back again. This earns me speculative looks not just from my sisters, but from Stephanie herself. I manage not to meet a single one of their speculative looks.

We meet Brynleigh and Bill down at the bottom.

“Let’s go to Fritz’s!” Brynleigh shouts at us as we gather around her, doing a little cheerleading jump. “I deserve some frozen custard after that.”

The last thing I want to do is go to a second location with everyone. “I don’t think...”

“Oh, come along,” Bill says in such an overtly affable voice that I blink in astonishment. He’s not grinning at me though. “It’s been so long since I’ve caught up with Zander.”

Of course. And I guess telling them on a sticky patio over frozen custard is better than in a crowd of human high schoolers.

“Sounds great,” Zander replies, as he and my dad do a complicated handshake, shoulder bump, man thing.

I try and fail to smile, and then we’re walking in a big blond group. Sadie manages this without seeming to lift her eyes from her heavy tome, and I always respect total commitment to all things, but especially to being needlessly dramatic and not like other girls—my personal high school specialty.

In the parking lot, Zander and I get into his truck that is right on the other side of the turnstiles, with promises to meet everyone at Fritz’s. It’s a short drive. We wait by the side of the road in front of the school so Zander can offer a little salute to Bill as he drives by a few minutes later in his oversized SUV.

“I can do it if you want,” Zander says, his eyes steady on the road. “Rip off the Band-Aid and let you handle the fallout.”

The wave of relief that threatens to take me down is unexpectedly huge. I want nothing more than to let him do exactly that, but I also know I won’t be able to live with myself if I’m that much of a coward. “No, I’ve got it. Look, if you want to drop me off until—”

“I’m not dropping you off, baby,” he says matter-of-factly as he once again claims a prime parking spot that wasn’t there for Bill, five seconds ago, in the Fritz’s parking lot.

It reminds me of last night and the way Jacob said he’d be staying at Wilde House. The way Mina and my mom hold on to each other. It resonates—and I tell myself that I really need some Zander-free time tomorrow. As a mental health thing, at this point.

We get out and join the rest of my family in line to order. My stomach is threatening to revolt, something I haven’t dealt with since the early stages of pregnancy. Or the last Joywood attack. I tell myself it’s a resurgence of morning sickness, not nerves.

Because I don’t care what Bill or Stephanie thinks. I never have. As much as I love my sisters, I’m not worried about their reactions either. They’re kids.

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