Page 114 of Keeping Score

“I know you’re obsessed with kissing ex-girlfriends,” she said, already headed to make a dramatic exit up the staircase, “but I’m not interested in that.”

I stared after her, watching as she stormed up each step with the fury of a woman scorned.

“And I’m taking the guest room.” She threw one last remark over her shoulder before disappearing from my sight.

I let out a sigh, slumping down on the bottom of the stairs, alone in the dark.

But something bubbled in my chest. An excitement accompanying the knowledge that it wasn’t over. Not entirely. I still had a chance.

Because no matter how pissed she was at me, no matter how much anger she had inside of her—I knew her, and her anger gave me hope.

Because Maggie Brynn didn’t fight over things she didn’t care about.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Maggie

Iwasn’t very in touch with my inner child. I didn’t like being a little girl even when I was one, so it made it a bit hard to get into character when I tried to play with Lily.

I sat criss-cross in the center of her bedroom, watching as she dragged a bucket of toys into the middle of the room before plopping down across from me.

In one swift motion, she turned the bucket upside down, dumping the entirety of its contents onto the rug between us.

“You have a lot of toys, Lil.” I remarked. “Your dad just buys you whatever you want, huh?”

“Yup,” she said, popping the “p.” “’Cause he loves me.”

I laughed, watching her pudgy hands shift through the Barbies on the floor.

“Here,” she held one up to me. “You can be this one ’cause your hair is brown.”

“Okay,” I took the doll between my fingers, pushing her plastic arm this way and that.

I’d never been much of a doll kid. Growing up as Liam’s shadow, I sort of just went along with whatever he was doing. My girlhood was spent trying, and usually failing, to perfect the hobbies that seemed to garner him so much attention and praise from the adults in our lives.

As a result, I was far more comfortable with a basketball or a skateboard than I was with Barbie’s Dream House or stuffed-animal tea parties.

But for Lily’s sake, I tried.

It was confusing to follow the chain of events she’d set up for us as we rapidly switched between playing family, then mermaids, then under-the-sea explorers. But stiff as I felt, I forced myself to follow the script she laid out for us.

“What are you girls doing?” Brody stuck his head in about fifteen minutes into our playdate.

My traitorous stomach did a somersault at the sight of him—his hair tousled from sleep and brown eyes feigning innocence.

“Playing dolls.” Lily answered. “Wanna play?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already gliding into the room with a smile on his face.

“Sure do!” he chirped, forming the third point of our triangle as he lowered himself to a sitting position.

“You can be him,” she said, handing him a Ken doll. “’Cause he’s the only boy I got. And you can pretend you have an ice cream store.”

“Got it,” he nodded, instantly getting into character.

I’d always been jealous of how he was able to interact so naturally with Lily in a way that I never could manage. He just understood her better—understood the illogical rules of children in a way I never would.

“How can I help you today, Miss?” Brody said, forcing his Ken doll to talk to Lily’s Barbie.