Page 88 of Glitched Play

He looks back at his tablet. “If you say so.”

I do.

I absolutely do.

The pizza place is loud before we even get inside.

Not normal loud.

O’Ryan loud.

The kind of loud that spills through the front doors in bursts of laughter, children shrieking, arcade machines beeping, and someone—probably Parker—arguing about whether skee-ball requires athletic skill. The whole place smells like melted cheese, garlic butter, birthday candles, and the sugary fog of a million kids running on soda.

I pause just inside the entrance.

The party room is packed. Long tables are shoved together and covered with paper plates, pizza trays, pitchers of soda, wrapped presents, and dinosaur decorations in shades of purple and green. A banner that says HAPPY BIRTHDAY WITLEY hangs slightly crooked on the wall. Kids weave between chairs with arcade cards clutched in their fists while adults talk over each other like volume is a family love language.

It should be overwhelming and it is. But it’s also warm in a way that hits me right in the chest.

Noelle spots me first and waves like she personally invited me. “Maci! You came!”

“I was drafted.”

“That’s how most of us got here,” Matt says dryly from beside her.

Witt appears at my side, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes mine. He doesn’t say anything, but somehow his presence steadies me. That is new and probably dangerous.

Witley comes running toward him in a sparkly dinosaur dress and purple sneakers. “Uncie Witt!”

He crouches before she reaches him, and she launches herself into his arms with complete confidence. He catches her easily, one arm around her back, the other keeping her from knocking them both over.

“Happy birthday,” he says.

She squeezes his neck. “Did you bring my present?”

“Yes.”

“Is it big?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a dinosaur?”

“Yes.”

“Is it better than Parker’s?”

“Statistically likely.”

Parker shouts from across the room, “I heard that.”

Witley giggles and kisses Witt’s cheek. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t stiffen. He simply holds her like this is one form of chaos his body already knows how to accept.

My chest warms again.

The man is impossible.

For the next hour, I am folded into the family like there was always a space left open for me. Birdie hands me a plate and tells me which pizza is the best. Sutton introduces me to three people whose names I immediately forget because two kids run between us screaming about tokens.