Page 53 of The Magic We Made

And one thing I’ve observed about her is that it’s unusual for Frankie to leave the house on a Saturday. I’m guessing she went off with her sister to do a little marriage counseling or something. Either that or she finally got finished with all her patients and is taking the cat to that vet she mentioned.

Which is good because that’s what she’d said she wanted to do, but finding Meg put a big dent in that plan. I’m glad Frankie isn’t too badly affected by my latest screwup. That means I can go to Derrick’s engagement party with a clear conscience.

It’s the same engagement party Frankie told her sister on the phone yesterday that she wasn’t going to. I don’t think she knows I overheard that conversation, or she wouldn’t have tried to use it as an excuse to get out of dinner with me.

Hey, I get it. I appreciate that she even bothered to make up an excuse, but I’m not surprised. Frankie would never be rude enough to say she wants nothing to do with a screwup like me (at least to my face), but there’s no way she’s really going to the party.

And that’s perfect because it means I can go and not have to answer questions about it, like “How do you know Derrick?” which is inevitably followed by, “Wait, how can he be your uncle when he’s only a year or two older than you are?”

My family dynamics are complicated—even more so than the Giovannis, though I doubt Frankie would ever believe that. And like Frankie, I love my family—but that doesn’t mean I can always explain their behavior.

Still, I try to be supportive. So that’s how I find myself at Derrick Winters’s engagement party.

I don’t expect him to look thrilled to see me—there’s always been a kind of sibling rivalry between us, even though we’re uncle and nephew, not brothers.

But I certainly don’t expect him to grimace when I walk up to him and say, “Congrats on the engagement!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derrick’s expression is a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

Since Derrick always looks this way when he sees me, I don’t take it personally—just like I’ve never taken it personally that he is nearly five inches taller than I am, always dresses in black, rides a motorcycle, and can heal with his touch. He won our family genetic lottery. I won... other things. I’ve accepted this, even if he has not.

“Geez, thanks a lot. Nice to see you, too.” I lean against the bar—it’s an outdoor one, since the party is on the deck of the Brewport. It’s turned out to be a beautiful evening—a bit chilly, but the sky is turning lovely shades of pink and purple as the sun sets. The deck is crowded. A lot of people have shown up to celebrate Derrick and Jessica’s engagement.

But not Frankie. I see the sister with the weird hair—it’s spikier than ever in the front—hanging with her husband in front of the stage where the band is playing. It’s a live band, featuring a few young girls dressed in black who seem to have limited musical skills but plenty of magic. I recognize a glamour when I see—or hear—one, and these girls have definitely cast one to enhance their sound, kind of like a supernatural autotune.

“I’ll take a Heineken,” I say to the girl behind the bar, because my other choices are all local IPAs with names like Season of the Witch, Witch’s Brew, and Basic Witch. It’s not that I have anything against witch-themed pale ale, I just tend to stick with what I know. To Derrick, standing beside me with a bottle of one of those pale ales in his big hand, I say, “I replied to the e-invite a few weeks ago. Didn’t you see that I said I was coming?”

Derrick scowls some more. “No. I’m not in charge here. It’s all Jessica and her friends.” He throws an aggrieved look across the front of the stage to where a bunch of women in fancy dresses are all laughing and dancing. I can’t tell which one is Jessica because I’ve never met her. We’re not really that kind of a family.

“Why would you come all the way out here to West Harbor for my engagement party,” Derrick growls, “when you could be in the city? It’s Saturday night, and you’re single.”

I repress a quick memory of my last few Saturday nights, attending black-tie charity functions with Guy, or having dinner with Nicole and Henry at their condo on the Upper West Side, then helping to put the twins to bed before going home myself to crash in front of the TV to playHalo.

“Single life’s not really all it’s cracked up to be,” I say after taking a big gulp of my beer. “You should know. You’re the one getting married.”

“Yes. But the only reason I’m in West Harbor is because I’ve met the world’s most amazing woman, and she lives here. What’s your excuse?”

I shrug. “Your mother.”

“My mother?”Derrick looks outraged. “You’re here doing something forher?”

“That’s right.”

“But Ilivehere!” Derrick cries. He looks pissed. This is the root of his animosity toward me: he’s jealous of my relationship with his mother. “Why didn’t she askme?”

“Because, my friend.” I sip my beer as I eye the women dancing in front of the stage. There are a lot of them, but none is as attractive—or sexy—as Frankie. “Your mom knows that I have a very particular set of skills.”

Derrick rolls his eyes. “Oh, Jesus.”

“It’s not my fault that you can’t handle the truth.”

“Even I know that those are quotes from two very different movies. What does—”

“Thereyou are!” A tall brunette in a silky purple dress puts an arm around Derrick’s waist and presses her soft, shapely body against his hard, muscular one. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I’m right here,” Derrick says in a voice I’ve never heard him use before. He sounds... happy? I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen Derrick look happy before.

But he seems it now as he wraps one of his big arms around the woman and then lowers his lips to hers.