Page 79 of The Ex Puck Bunny
“I take it that was not part of the plan.”
“Nope. But you know what they say about plans.”
“Like ones not to fall for a hockey player?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“Or your brother’s best friend . . . again?”
“Correction, your brother’sotherbest friend.”
I don’t scratch the itchy curiosity about what it was like to face off with Lucan or what he would’ve done if it had been Trey, since, according to Dad and Derek, he’s also a pest. In fact, I don’t think about him again.
Not during the bachelorette party.
Not on our wedding day.
Not when we drive away in the restored Dodge—with aJust Marriedsign and tin cans rattling off the bumper.
Not when we visit Hawaii for our honeymoon.
And not today when we return to the McMansion to find my parents and Bunny playing in the backyard on the play structure with the Snoots.
“The Snorts!” I call before I can stop myself.
Bunny makes her grunt-snort-rhino sound.
Derek and Deborah sit on the patio. My brother breaks into hysterics.
“I meant the Snots.” Oops. That wasn’t much better.
Now, Derek clutches his belly. Dad presses his lips together, stifling laughter.
Mom blinks at me as if begging me to stop.
“The Schusters. What a surprise to find you here just when we returned from our honeymoon.”
“How was Houston?” Sophia asks.
“We went to Hawaii.” I recall the conversation with Whit and the girls, then remind myself that we’re not chickens, which almost makes me laugh out loud.
Mom clears her throat and says, “Sophia was just telling me about their trip and that they’re getting an above-ground pool installed soon.”
“Oh, us too. Well, an inground. Water features. Jacuzzi, a slide for the kids.” I gesture toward the backyard. “The outdoor kitchen will be right here.”
“Don’t forget the koi fish pond,” Grady adds.
We discussed this while lounging in a cabana in Maui.
Mr. Sophia speaks, “Babe, I told you they’d have us beat. I raise a flag and admit it. We can’t afford that on my salary. Maybe you could try to be friends with Heidi instead of always hatching plans to make yourself look better.”
Sophia gasps, aghast. “I can’t believe?—”
“We’ve talked about this. You don’t have to try to step on others to make yourself feel better. You have a great family, me, a nice home. What will be enough?”
We all look at each other as if desperate to get away so they can have this conversation privately, but there’s nowhere to go unless we stop the kids from playing—nicely, for once.
Then, remembering that I don’t want to be known as the bratty neighbor and would prefer to mend fences, I say, “Sophia, I’m wondering if you’d like to join me and a few of the other WAGs from the hockey team for karaoke night next week. Once a month, we get together to do something fun.”
