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“Oh yeah,” Roy said. “We’re getting them into it early. They love it.”

“No, Roy, not the baseball. That,” she repeated, gesturing dumbly at the scene in front of her.

“What?” Roy asked, clearly not witnessing the same version of unreality that she was in that moment. “Oh. Oh. You haven’t seen him with the kids yet, have you?”

And something Aster had told her in their living room found its way to the forefront of Molly’s brain: I like children. It had been a relatively innocuous statement at the time, but with context, it shifted.

Roy grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to the scene before them. “This is his single redeeming quality. One of the only reasons we put up with him, honestly.” It was said dryly, but Molly spotted the secret smile pulling across his face.

Alannah looked up as they approached. “Oh good, you’ve survived.”

“Barely,” Roy said, still tugging Molly closer.

“Bishop is trying to corrupt the children. Something about the virtues of outfielders,” Alannah said with far less concern than Molly might have imagined a sentence like that required, particularly considering Roy’s history as a pitcher.

“Not again,” Roy breathed. “He knows nothing about baseball. He’s making stuff up at this point.”

As it turned out, handling the Clays was nothing. This was the untethering bit. The whirlpool spun faster.

“Hey, Bishop. Quit trying to convert my kids.”

Aster looked up, utterly unfazed. “I’m merely providing them with options. Someone must.”

“They can decide that for themselves.”

“Yes, with proper knowledge of all the positions, not just the one their father loves so much.”

“You don’t even like baseball, Bishop. Get a hobby.”

“Irritating you has been a hobby of mine for well over a decade. Why should I stop now?”

“Maturity? Civility?”

“Overrated.”

“The fact that you’re a guest at this party?”

“Not even manners maketh me pause where you’re concerned.”

Molly felt caught somewhere between a contentious past and a friendly present, simultaneously occupying both realities at once.

Breaking their banter, Jessa’s little hands started grappling at Aster’s pant leg. With a practiced smirk, and not breaking eye contact with Roy, Aster pulled a candy from his pocket and offered it to her. Roy sighed, and it was long-suffering.

“Now, Jessa,” Aster said, kneeling. “Be honest with me, are your mom and dad giving you enough sweets? If they aren’t, you’re more than welcome to come stay with me and your aunt Molly until we figure out this horrendous oversight on their behalf.”

Jessa only giggled, popping the soft candy in her mouth, letting her tiny bat fall to the grass.

“Wait,” Molly started, finally finding her voice. “Was that one of your special candies that I’m not allowed to have?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sharing them with her and not me?”

“She’s a child,” Aster said as if that was the answer to everything.

“And I’m your wife.” It slipped out before she could reel it back.

Had she ever said it before? Certainly not to him.