Page 118 of My Wife
“This was before I met your grandfather.”
Just then, Hendrix appears and dips into the now-empty fudge container. “Who ate all the fudge?”
The kids boisterously provide the answer.
Quickly moving on, he holds up his hand for his brother to slap. Do they have a secret handshake? Hendrix bellows, “The Beast. You dominated the game, but too bad you didn’t win.”
Liam, elbows resting on his knees, grunts.
Hendrix squeezes his shoulder. “How about a little rematch, Ellis family style?” Then to the group at large, he asks, “Who’s up for pickleball hockey?”
Collette, a school teacher, says, “The kids could stand to burn off some energy before dinner.”
“We’ll be the cheerleaders,” Grandma Dolly and Grannie Bell sign and speak, respectively.
“And kid corrallers,” Aunt Goldie adds.
Ingrid appears and says, “Jess and I are going to stay here and have a sisterly chat.”
We are? My stomach tumbles. I sign to KJ, reminding him to use his manners and stay with the grownups.
Ingrid says, “The kids will be fine. There is one grandma and auntie for each.”
Liam gets to his feet and Ingrid instantly takes his place.
A wave of nerves shoots through me. Am I going to be given the third degree? Questioned under a bare lightbulb in a cement cell? It’s silly, but sisters, whether big or small scare me. Ingrid is just over six months into her pregnancy, her belly is wonderfully round and she’s significantly taller than me. It’s like Brookking Sound is the land of giants. There must be something in the water up here.
I edge over, giving her some room.
To her brother, Ingrid says, “While you two battle it out on the pickleball court, Jess and I are going to get to know each other.”
As if somehow picking up on my apprehension, Liam doesn’t move a muscle except the one twitching in his jaw.
Ingrid rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to lead her out onto the dock and push her into the water. It’s still freezing.” She turns to me. “But do you know how to swim?”
A growl builds inside Liam.
“I’m joking and super pregnant. I’d be lucky if I floated. We’re just going to get to know each other.”
I cannot fathom what I might say to Liam’s sister … and am afraid of what she might say to me, namely that she sees right through the fabrication his parents so readily bought we didn’t officially agree to sell.
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JESS
Ingridand her husband are why Instagram was invented, highlighting the easy, breezy carefree put together families that give the rest of us mortals agita because we need to wash our hair, put on pants without holes, and use our gym memberships. Her husband is masculine and successful. I gathered that he works in tech. They’re a powerhouse, their children are blessings, and twinkling stars float around them as they move effortlessly through life.
At least, that’s what it seems like.
While seated with Ingrid and with the rest of the family heading off to play pickleball hockey—whatever that is—Liam’s gaze meets mine in a rare moment. It’s as if he’s silently asking if I’ll be okay. I have my security whistle in my purse and am not afraid to use it. I give a subtle nod and he disappears into the dusky evening.
Ingrid turns to me, her ample belly like a beach ball between us. Then, like we’re two high school best friends, her voice lowers, and she says, “We are shocked that Liam is with someone. Do you realize that you’re the chosen one? He was untouchable.”
My eyes must be as big as the rising moon.
“Think Edward and Bella from Twilight. Tell me you know what I’m talking about.”
“I’ve read all the books and watched the movies at least twice each.” Okay, dozens of times.
