Page 88 of The Magic We Made

Comfortable little life. Yes, that’s what we’d had back then, a comfortable little life, without fun, without intimacy, without any of the things I have with Ash—

Hadwith Ash.

“But in the end,” he goes on, “this witch’s voice was too strong. And that’s why I had to go.”

Ash is right. Richardisa dick.

“Gosh,” I say. “Have you mentioned any of this to your therapist, Richard? Because I may not have a ton of experience with hallucinations, but it sure sounds like—”

“It was no hallucination, Frankie.” Richard looks annoyed at the suggestion he might have suffered a mental health crisis. “I really saw her. I saw a witch who told me to follow my dreams.”

“And did she know that dream also included sticking your dick in our twenty-five-year-old yoga instructor?”

“That is really unfair,” Richard says, looking wounded. “Devorah has never done anything but support me.”

“Good. I hear her parents turned her old room into a home gym, but there’s still space for a futon, so maybe she’ll let you move in with her.” As I speak, I’m texting Jackie:

I know you said you didn’t want to drag your team out here on a Sunday night, but I think you’re going to have to. Center Island is on fire. Send help.

“You know, I just might do that,” Richard says, indignantly. “At leastDevorahvalues the same things I do. You certainly never did. Look at my lawn!”

“Richard,youleftme. It’smylawn now. I can do what I want with it—”

“Or do nothing with it, which is what you’ve been doing.” He gives me a bitter smile. “I think the problem was that back then, you weren’t ready for the truth. But you are now.”

“Oh, I am, am I?” I watch my phone screen, hoping Jackie will reply right away. No such luck.

“Yes. I almost think that’s why that storm sent my boat crashing to the rocks. Maybe that witchwantedto ground me so that I could return here to you, now that you finally see the truth.”

“The truth being?”

“Magic is real. Everything I ever thought was true turns out to be a lie. That’s why I lost you—why I lost everything, because I didn’t believe. But I do now... and I want to make things right.”

I stand up, and not only because I know what he’s doing and I don’t want to hear it. Three small figures are emerging from the fog and heading toward my house. “Get out of here, Richard.”

“Frankie, didn’t you hear me?” Richard is on his feet, as well. “I said magic is real, and I still love you. I think we need to give our relationship another chance. My love for you has only gotten stronger since I’ve realized the truth—”

“Richard, how did you get here tonight? I don’t see a car parked anywhere nearby.”

“I had to sell my car,” Richard says. “To help pay for the boat. You know that. I took an Uber here.”

“Then Uber back where you came from.” I turn away from him as the three DeLong grandkids come toward me. “Now.”

“Frankie, this isn’t at all how I was expecting this to go. Can’t you see that I still love you? I miss you!”

There was a time when these words from Richard’s lips would have made my heart sing.

But that time is long past.

“You love this house,” I inform him. “You miss your yard. But you don’t love or miss anything about me. And unfortunately for you, you don’t own the house or the yard anymore. You sold them to me. Now get off my lawn.”

Eddie, Robby, and Sammy DeLong have lined themselves up along the brick path to my front porch and are standing there, looking uncertainly at Richard. I don’t blame them—it’s not often you get to meet the guy off the fish sticks box in the flesh.

Then I remember how he used to yell at them—little kids!—for kicking their soccer ball into our yard, and I feel even more sympathy for them... and even less for him.

“Didn’t you hear me, Richard?” I demand. “Get. Out.”

I know this isn’t very empathetic of me, but I’m beyond caring. I just want him to leave, which fortunately he does, huffing off into the smoky, foggy night, muttering how I’ll be sorry one day.