Page 50

I dried off and got changed into a nice, dark-wash jean and cashmere sweater then did my makeup and hair. I looked almost civilized by the time I was ready. I went down the steps, and there was Sage, looking pulled-together, and the boys, all of us presenting to the world as practically perfect.

“Let’s go.” I handed out umbrellas from the closet under the stairs and then we went out onto the porch where the wind was still blowing, the rain still pouring, the mud still flowing.

“We’re going bowling!” Jerome cried, leaping off the porch with his umbrella out like he could Mary Poppins up and away.

“Bowling?” the sorcerer in my yard said, slowly standing up. His shirt had charred marks from Ray of Sunshine’s dark magic.

“Yeah,” Sage put in, not quite looking at him while she walked carefully through the mud towards the SUV parked in the gravel.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, looking at me. Was he looking for an invitation?

“Only if you don’t get water on the seats. I’m driving.”

I had the heater on high as we went, because I was still cold from earlier. Also bruised. Also headachy from the green smoke battle.

We drove in silence, but the rain quit by the time we reached the main road. It was awkward to have my husband sitting there, hand on the console, palm up, like he was waiting for me to hold it. There was no way he’d actually think I’d do that while this whole situation was such a mess.

“So, Dad, you really killed the Millers’ parents?” Sage asked, leaning forward to poke her head between us.

“Yes.” His voice was cold, short.

“Dad?” Jerome said, leaning around Sage to stare at him so his head was right beside mine. “You’re not my dad! He’s coming home soon from work. He always comes home because we’re good. He promised to come back soon if we were good for Mom.”

What kind of emotional blackmail was that? Probably the kind that kept them from burning down the house while he was gone.

“He’s not your dad,” I said quickly. “He’s just like an avatar of your dad. You know, like those video games.”

“We’re not allowed to have video games. And he doesn’t look like an avatar. Unless it’s magic. Are you really our dad?” The boys started poking the terrifying sorcerer sitting in the passenger seat.

“Sit down!” Sage yelled. “You’re climbing all over me and messing up my hair! And put on your seatbelts. He’s what Dad looks like when he’s not pretending to be normal.”

“Why isn’t he pretending to be normal? The rest of us are,” James pointed out, logically.

“Do you want me to pretend to be normal?” the sorcerer said, looking at me.

“No.”

“But what if someone sees us at the bowling alley?” Sage said. “He has face-tattoos. And it’ll look like you’re dating him, which will be awkward.”

“We aren’t pretending to be normal. We’re just trying to have a nice family outing. I look forward to other people seeing him with his face-tattoos.” Their reactions might help fortify my own defenses against him. “And we’re getting a divorce.”

“What?” the kids shrieked in the back. “You can’t get a divorce, Mom! That’s just like Baxton, and then he had to move!”

“We aren’t getting a divorce,” the man at my right said calmly.

I glared at him before quickly refocusing on the road. “The papers have been filed.”

“What are papers other than flammable?”

“I don’t think he’s really Dad,” Jerome said. “Because Dad wouldn’t ever kill Donny’s parents.”

He clenched his fist, which shouldn’t seem like much, but a low throbbing went through my bones, and with the sound of a wet paint roller going up a wall, there he was, in the…flesh? Clark, the man who’d made me fall so stupidly in love with him.

I stared at the lines of his nose, his warm eyes, soft eye crinkles, gentle smile, and then he grabbed the steering wheel and kept me from plowing into a truck.

I inhaled sharply and gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles went white.

“Boys, I am your father,” he said in that voice, the no-nonsense but still affectionate voice that he used when they’d done something stressful.