Page 83 of The Accidental Text

Then when we went to seat ourselves and June took the spot where our mom used to sit, I felt a weight land in my gut, like I had swallowed a massive rock. Roasted chicken may no longer be my favorite dinner. It might always be associated with this feeling.

“That’s … great.” Mark, Chelsea’s husband, is the first to speak. I think he couldn’t take the awkward silence that landed on the room after our dad’s announcement.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice coming out breathy.

“Yeah, great,” Chelsea says, using her extra cheerful fake-sounding voice. Avery is on her lap, playing with the white cloth napkin, putting it on her face and giggling.

Devon just sits there, his arms folded, an angry look on his face.

“I know this might be strange for all of you,” June says. “I promise, this is not what we were expecting.” She looks at my dad again.

“June has been wonderful, helping me work through my grief. She’s been a rock for me.”

Devon snorts and it sounds sarcastic.

“Are you going to get married, Papa?” Alice asks, sitting in the seat next to me. She’s a very astute four-year-old—she picks up on things that a normal child her age probably wouldn’t. But she’s smart like that. She already knows her ABCs.

She also has an obsession with Disney princesses, as evidenced by the Elsa dress she’s chosen to wear to dinner. She’s holding a butter knife—a silver one from my mom’s collection—and has it pointed at my dad and June. Chelseareaches over and snatches the knife out of her hand. I give Alice my phone to keep her occupied.

My dad does a nervous laugh. “Not yet, Alice in Wonderland,” he says, using the nickname he gave her at birth.

Not …yet?

I need my phone back. I need to text Chase for help. He’s got to use his wingman skills and get me out of here. But Elsa, a.k.a. Alice, has my phone.

“Mommy, what does C-H-A-S-E spell?” Alice asks, holding my phone up to show Chelsea.

“Chase,” Chelsea says. She looks at my phone and then at me. Her brow pinched. “You’re getting texts from him?”

I grab the phone from Alice, seeing Chase’s name on the lock screen. “We’re friends. I told you.”

“No one can replace her,” Devon says, his voice elevated.

Chelsea and I look over at the other side of the table where my dad and June are still sitting, still holding hands, and Devon is staring at them, red faced.

I just missed something. What did I miss?

“I’m not looking to replace your mom.” My dad’s face is starting to turn a matching shade of red.

I swivel my head back to Chelsea, who gives me wide eyes and a quick shake of her head. We need to intervene. But I’m not sure how to do it.

“Couldn’t you, like, get a dog or something?” Devon asks, his voice getting louder.

“This isn’t about being lonely,” Dad says.

“Sex, then?” Devon asks.

“Devon!” Chelsea says, the pitch of her voice bordering on shrill.

“That’s not your business, son,” my dad says, his voice loud and booming.

“What is sex?” Alice asks the room.

June is now the color of a beet, and it feels like the temperature in the room has gone up a hundred degrees.

Everyone starts talking over each other—words are being said between Devon and my dad that are going to be hard to take back. June looks like she might cry.

I glance at Chelsea and see a look of desperation on her face. We make eye contact and her eyes plead with me. I know my job. I’ve always been the peacemaker of the family. It’s the plight of the middle child. How do I fix this? What can I say?

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