Page 77 of Truly Madly Magically

He turns then, and I don’t know what to do with this version of him that isn’t easy to rile up.

I open my mouth to say something that will show him, but he drops his mouth to mine before I can decide what it should be. Then he bends and does the same to the little swell of baby. He presses a kiss there and gives her an affectionate pat.

And ruins me, that easily.

He rises. “Frost and Rebekah are downstairs. He’s coming to the ferry with me this morning, and Rebekah’s staying with you. Emerson sent a schedule.” He nods behind me. “It’s on the fridge. I’ll see you tonight for dinner at Wilde House.”

Like...we’re a couple.

An adult couple who sleep in the same bed and share tea and...and...a life?

“I don’t—” I throw at his back. “I can’t—”

It’s not clear if it’s the curse stopping me, or just me stopping me. But I have to revert to that inner channel where I can say whatever I like, regardless.

I don’t want this, I tell him, and I mean it.

He turns and grins at me. Grins. “You sure about that, baby?”

I magic a vase at his head, because I am only so adult. He catches it, and I don’t even think he uses magic. He’s always been naturally athletic in all the most annoying ways. He calmly places the vase on the end table by the door.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he says cheerfully, then exits.

I might even hear the sound of cheery whistling, like salt in the wound.

My fists are clenched. I’m sure my blood pressure is through the roof. The only thing that keeps me from screaming is the likelihood Zander would hear it and laugh again. The happy laugh that warms me from the inside out.

Or would if I didn’t want to murder him.

Rebekah sails through the still-open door, takes one look at me and smiles.

“Well,” she says. “It looks like we have some things to talk about.”

19

I DON’T KNOW how to deal with Rebekah, or anyone, in this moment when I feel like what I’d really like to do is cry. For a year. “Did you know,” I say, “that male babies can get erections in the womb?”

As if taking a page out of Zander’s book—as if they’re all colluding—she doesn’t answer. She just closes the door behind her and walks into my kitchen as if I’m not standing right here, scowling at her.

“Emerson is losing her mind,” Rebekah tells me. “Trying to be totally fine with the fact we haven’t had a meeting since the Undine showed up. I’ll admit that it’s fun to watch. Much more fun than dodging the extended Wilde family. Though as of this morning, every last one of them has morphed back into the primordial ooze. Obviously, my parents practically beat them all out the door, desperate to get back to Germany.”

I relax a little. She’s letting it go. We can talk about other things.

“How was it?” she asks me, looking concerned.

For a minute, I think she means last night with Zander.

I get it as she looks down at my belly. She’s asking about telling my dad that I’m pregnant. “It was what it was.”

“That bad?”

I shrug and return to my seat at the table. I didn’t touch my tea, and I’m still hungry. I decide a pregnant lady deserves a cupcake for breakfast dessert and have some appear on the table before us, along with a mug of tea for Rebekah.

“It doesn’t matter.” I take a delicious bite of frosting, relishing the fact that today I can say that out loud. Because Bill’s reaction really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change my life, one way or another. Now that I’ve grieved whatever I thought it could be or should be, I can move on to dealing with what is.

“It does,” Rebekah says quietly. “I wish he got that.”

I shrug at that, so she sips her tea and picks up the book from Georgie. She flips through it. “Cute,” she offers. “Em and I were never encouraged to love a fairy tale, though personally, I rebelled.”

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