Page 65 of Truly Madly Magically

And yet.

We shove in at an uncomfortable plastic table that’s bolted into the asphalt. With the sun down, it’s too chilly to be eating something frozen outside, but no one seems to care. Teenagers laugh around us. Couples huddle together.

“We have something to tell you,” I say instead of taking a bite of what I ordered, a Raz-ma-Taz concrete—a name that pains me but is a delightful blend of custard, raspberries, marshmallows, and chopped nuts that I normally inhale.

Beside me, Stephanie’s eyes get huge, and she immediately grips my left hand, inspecting my ring finger.

It never occurred to me that anyone would think that.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, lest she start planning white dresses and acres of orchids, though I might be too late.

“I thought you had to be married to have a baby,” Gigi says, her eyebrows beetling together.

“Uh, well, it’s best to be,” Stephanie says. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re not, of course,” she tells me, gripping my hand even harder. Then she turns back to Gigi. “You really should wait until you are.”

Poor Stephanie. I’m surprised smoke doesn’t start coming from her ears as she tries to make both things okay. The way she always tries so hard to make everything okay.

“We learned all about procreation in health,” Sadie announces proudly. “I can explain it to you, Gigi.”

“No, Sadie. Not now.” Stephanie sounds desperate enough that Sadie keeps her mouth shut, but she grins at me. I want to laugh or return the grin, but my father is just sitting there, a blank look on his face.

Stephanie wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes. “Bill! We’re going to be grandparents!”

My dad says nothing. He doesn’t look at me. And despite how low I would tell you my expectations are for this man, I still expected...something. Some reaction, even if it was faked. A hug. A pat on the back.

A smile, for fuck’s sake.

Instead he stands, awkwardly slipping his phone out of his pocket. “Congratulations. I’m so—” He trips over whatever word he tries to say, and I know that trip. I know he tried to lie. And failed. Mom and I have no idea how he sells a thing. His face gets red. “I have a call to make.”

He walks away, jabbing at his phone like it betrayed him.

A very uncomfortable silence follows. Eventually Stephanie interrupts it with a nervous titter. “You know how touchy he is about getting old.” She shrugs like it’s a cute little joke. “He’ll come around.”

Did I really expect something different? Genuine excitement? It’s not like I don’t know my own father.

Zander’s hand is still on my back, but he shifts to sling his arm over my shoulders. “I hate to break this up, but I’ve got to get to work.”

“At night?” Madyson asks, holding her lacrosse ball in the crook of her neck as she shovels in her frozen custard. “That’s weird.”

“I run a bar,” he tells her.

I know he doesn’t have to work tonight. He’s just getting me out of here.

I feel a rush of sheer relief. Like we’re a team again, the way I imagined we could be back between blowups when we were teenagers. Maybe that’s why looking at other couples doing their team thing makes me feel...almost nostalgic.

“Sounds exciting,” Brynleigh says, all but fluttering her lashes Zander’s way.

“I’m sure your father will be right back...” This is maybe the first time I’ve ever seen Stephanie this overwrought—aside from the few times she’s had to deal directly with my mother.

Zander and I stand, so she stands too. Then wraps me in an overly scented hug, squeezing tight. Holding on like she means it as she whispers, “I’m so happy for you. We’re going to throw you the best baby shower.”

Tonight, probably for the first time, I hug her back. When I whisper my thank you right back to her, I mean it. Even if the idea of a baby shower with her is high on my list of worst ways to spend an afternoon.

She hugs Zander too, while I go through my sisters. We’re not huggers, but they congratulate me, suggest names, show excitement. Except Sadie, who is watching with clear understanding on her face. Because she isn’t just low on tact like the rest of us, she’s perceptive.

When she doesn’t say anything, I give her a sisterly poke. “Don’t forget to text me a birthday list. You have to give me some time to shop.”

She studies me for a moment with eyes like mine. “Just take me to Confluence Books someday. Your friend has the best store.”

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