Page 33 of Perfect on Paper

Parents didn’t give him consistent love as a baby, so he doesn’t believe love is limitless and unconditional. He doesn’t withdraw because closeness overwhelms him: he withdraws because he desperately wants to be followed.

Has an anxious attachment style!

There was something unknowably perfect about Disneyland.

It’s hard to say if the magic came from the environment, or the contagious excitement emanating from hundreds of bouncing, buzzing kids filling the crowded lines at the turnstiles, or pure nostalgia. If I had to guess, I’d put my money on all three. Standing on these orangey-red bricks, surrounded by families posing for photos in front of manicured grass beds filled with purple and white flowers in the shape of Mickey Mouse, breathing in the scent of corn dogs and recycled water, I was four again. Ainsley was six. She held Mom’s hand. I held Dad’s. No one was fighting, I couldn’t even conceive of my family being split down the middle, and the only thing that mattered was getting the next FastPass.

I guess that’s what nostalgia really meant. Even though I’d been to Disneyland dozens of times since then, my first memory was the one that bled into today.

The morning was warm—I’d already shoved my sweater into Ainsley’s backpack for safekeeping until I needed it after dark. A gust of wind whipped my hair around my face. To the far right, a girl entering the park with her parents lost her Elsa baseball cap in the breeze, and she broke into a run to chase it, as strangers made mad dashes to grab it for her.

It really was a stroke of genius for Brougham to bring Winona here. It was impossible to hold a grudge in the Happiest Place on Earth.

Brougham and Winona were waiting ahead, closer to the turnstiles. Winona seemed to be in good spirits, and she was chattering away at Brougham while digging through her blue-and-purple paisley tote bag. The material was covered in flowers; squiggly, colorful designs; and Mickey and Minnie in various poses. That, along with her Tinker Bell canvas shoes andBeauty and the Beast–themed crystal rose earrings, told me two things: a) rich kids had way too much money to throw around, and I would never stop being jealous of that; and b) Brougham was observant. He hadn’t just taken Winona to Disneyland on a whim the year before. He’d correctly pegged her as a superfan.

Observant was a good sign. All we needed to do wasup the thoughtfulness and reduce the clinginess and we’d make a Disney prince of him yet.

Once we’d gotten through the magical bag check and the whimsical scan for bombs or other deadly weapons, Brougham sent me a text.

Get Space Mountain FastPasses exactly now.

He’d helped me sign Ainsley and myself up to the Disneyland app and paid for MaxPasses for us, meaning we could line up our FastPasses on our phones instead of sprinting to the FastPass dispensers. If you asked me, that took a lot of the adrenaline out of the day, but no onedidask me.

Got it. My entry window is 10:45 to 11:45.

Not too far ahead of us, Brougham discreetly checked my response and typed back.

Done.

And we were off, wandering down Main Street, serenaded by a hodgepodge of cheerful music. Sleeping Beauty Castle loomed ahead of us. While we walked, I sent a message to Brooke, glancing up regularly at Brougham and Winona.

Sorry again about today.

We passed a stall selling Minnie Mouse ears, and Ainsley’s eyes rested on them for a little too long. She didn’t say anything, though. As cute as they were, neither of us had the money to spend on clothingthatspecific. Even Ainsleycouldn’t find a way to alter and incorporate those into her everyday wardrobe.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

That’s okay! I actually asked Ray to come to the movies with me…

I slowed my pace so I could focus on steadying my breathing. This was my karma for sabotaging Brooke and Jaz. It had to be. Life couldn’t be this randomly cruel.

“Red Wagon, Red Wagon, Red Wagon,” Ainsley chanted, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I could not afford to spiral.

Brougham and Winona were already veering to the right in the direction of Tomorrowland. “Oh my god, Ainsley, it’ssoearly.”

“It’s never too early.”

They were getting away from us, their bobbing heads blending into the thickening crowds. “Okay, I need to go, though. Can you grab them and text me when you’re done? You can meet me.”

“‘Them’?” Ainsley asked. “So, you want a corn dog, too?”

I blinked. “Well, I mean, ifyou’regetting one.”

She waved a hand. “Fine, fine, go!”

I didn’t need to be told twice. By this point, I’d lost sight of Brougham and Winona altogether, so I broke into a jog and dodged families and children and strollers and balloons, over the gray paved path, and past umbrella-topped tables outside Tomorrowland Terrace. Finally, I spotted them hovering outside the Star Trader souvenir shop. Brougham was saying something to Winona, but he seemed distracted.Then his gaze tracked over and hung suspended for the briefest moment on me before turning back to Winona. His stiff posture relaxed.

They started moving again, which meant I did, too. Far enough behind them that they didn’t notice me, but not so far behind I lost them. So far, there weren’t any red flags. The conversation seemed evenly split, with no long, awkward pauses. Winona even threw her head back in laughter once, her chestnut brown hair spilling back over her shoulders. All promising.

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