The First Taste(126)

When they’ve gone, I shake my head. “Your sister is insane.”

Andrew grins. “She’ll be your sister too.”

I look at him, thinking I’ve misheard. “What?”

His smile fades. “Christ. Sorry. That was a stupid f*cking thing to say.”

“She’ll be my sister?” I repeat. I wonder if it was a slip of the tongue, but the way he swallows uncomfortably makes me realize what he’s saying. “You mean if we were to . . . if one day—”

“Don’t freak out,” he says. “It was dumb. I swear, I don’t have a ring in my pocket or anything. I haven’t even thought about it. I wouldn’t just spring that on you—”

“Hang on,” I say, throwing him a lifeline since he’s obviously struggling. “Just back up. I’m not freaking out, but what were you trying to say?”

He stops for a moment, squinting behind me, lost in a thought. Finally, he says, “I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t believe in a future with you. So I guess on some subconscious level, I assume we’re in it now. For the long haul.” He cringes. “Stage-five clinger status?”

I don’t panic. Instead, to my surprise, I laugh. “No. We’re not like other couples. We have to think about these things. I’d be more shocked if I hadn’t just talked to Flora about being a stepmother.”

Andrew’s face stills, and for a moment, our roles are reversed, and I feel like I’ve gone too far. He clenches his jaw, and the warm blue of his eyes sharpens. “God,” he says. “A stepmom. To Bell.”

I hold his gaze and point out, “That’s the same thing as being Sadie’s sister-in-law.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I just never thought I’d . . . get here. And so quickly.”

I rub his back. “It is quick. We have all the time in the world, though. There’s no rush.”

“Where’s Daddy?” Bell calls over the din of the crowd. “I have to blow out the candles now.”

“Well, maybe a slight rush,” I amend, smiling.

“It never ends,” he says. “And summer break’s around the corner. That’s months without a reprieve.” I can’t tell if it’s a complaint or a warning—especially since he’s smiling.

Before I can find out, Bell comes running up to us. She stops a few feet away as if she’s hit an invisible wall. “Dad?” she asks, uncharacteristically timid.

I go to pull away, but Andrew keeps me where I am. “You’re not interrupting,” he says. “Come here.”

She tiptoes forward, as if she might spook one of us. Her eyes dart between Andrew and me. “We have to, um, eat cake now. So I can open presents.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go get it.”

“’K.” She turns around, pausing briefly to look at the grass.

“Bell,” he says.

She looks back.

“Are you okay?” Andrew shifts so his arm is around my shoulders again, and we’re no longer hugging. He holds out his hand to her. “Do you feel confused about this?”

She just stares at us.

“Listen,” he says. “Why don’t we all go inside and talk about it? We’ll answer any questions you have.”

After a few seconds, she slumps forward as if he’s asked her to call the whole party off. “Do we have to right now? I want to open my presents.”

He chuckles. “All right then. We’ll do it after.”

“Whatever. Go cut the cake!” She spins around and runs back to her friends.

Andrew and I exchange a glance. “I was hoping whatever wouldn’t start for a few more years,” he says.

I smile. “Oh, no. Whatever is a way of life, honey. It’ll only get worse.”

He laughs. “Maybe the whatever lifestyle is something you can take on. You know, to bond with her.”

I purse my lips. “We’ll see.”

He kisses the top of my head before ruffling it—to annoy me, I’m sure—and walks off toward the kitchen, leaving me alone, frantically trying to smooth down my hair. When it’s back to normal, I look around the backyard to see if there’s anything I can do and pause when I see one of the women staring at me from across the yard. Another one of Andrew’s admirers, I guess, based on the sour look on her face. Even though I’ve caught her clearly watching us, I’m the one who looks away first.

I find Sadie and Nathan at the picnic table, the only ones left eating, as all the kids have gone back to running around. I take the seat next to Sadie on the bench. “Who’s that woman?” I ask.

“Who?” Sadie asks between bites.

“Her.” I nod. “By the back gate.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sadie says without looking, more fascinated by her potato salad. “I don’t know any of the moms.”

“Oh. I caught her staring at me, and she looked angry.”

“Angry?” Nathan repeats. “Why would anyone be angry? It’s a kid’s party—”

He pauses as he and Sadie meet eyes. They go completely still.

“You don’t think . . .?” Sadie asks him.