Mila darts from cornhole toward the play structure where Paulina is helping two toddlers, Witley and Kane up the ladder.
“Be careful!” Noelle calls from the patio, smiling and enjoying being a parent.
Birdie leans back in her chair, sunglasses on, drink in hand. “They’ll survive, probably.”
She’s the cool parent, never hovering. But when they cry, she’s the first one to cradle them into her arms.
Inside it’s even louder.
Ping-pong balls snap back and forth in the basement, Granny and Dad going at it. “Hey Little Bit.”
“Hi Granny. What’s the score?”
“Fifteen all. But your dad is going down this time.”
Dad laughs, “You haven’t beaten me in forty years.”
“Today’s the day,” Granny shouts as she slams the ball in the corner that it bounces high off the table and Dad can’t get to it.
J.D. andSutton are shouting over a video game tournament like it’s life or death.
“Rematch!” J.D. yells.
Sutton gets up doing her version of the football shuffle dance. “You got smoked.”
Annika stands just inside the doorway, taking it all in. Then she steps forward like she belongs. Because she does.
Mila runs inside screaming, “Trevor’s coming.”
Paulina grins beside her.
I move closer, my hand brushing Annika’s lower back. Witt sits in his usual spot, laptop open, fingers moving like he’s solving a problem the rest of us can’t see.
He glances up. “Hey.”
“Do you want to play me?” Annika asks.
He lifts both brows. “Me? You want to play against me in video games?” I know what he’s thinking.I’m the king of gaming.“That’s a no.”
Witt’s focus returns to his screen then he asks, “Have you considered changing your name back?”
Just like that. In an instant, Witt switches gears.
No lead-in. No hesitation.
Suddenly the room feels like everyone’s holding their breath. Annika stills beside me.
“Witt,” I warn.
“What?” he asks, taking extra time to look up again. “It’s inefficient.”
The basement fills as everyone files in from outside, escaping the scorching summer heat.
Greyson snorts from the doorway, sweat dripping from his brow. “He’s never known how to read a room.”
Witt ignores him, eyes locked on Annika now.
“It’s like you’re two different people,” he continues. “Nadia, Mila and Parker call you Annika. Everyone else calls you Anna Morrow.”
