14. Conrad
CONRAD
Spring break began with my skull attempting to split itself open behind my left eye. I woke before my alarm, that familiar, awful pressure already building at the base of my neck.
For several minutes, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling and trying to negotiate with my nervous system.
Not today. Please, not today. Winnie had agreed to be here with the kids so I could get some home maintenance items marked off my to-do list.
The universe, unfortunately, declined my request.
By the time I dragged myself downstairs, the headache had evolved from annoying into ominous. The light in the kitchen was too bright. The coffee smelled too strong. Even Billie’s humming had an edge to it.
Winnie looked up from the stove the moment I entered.
A strange awareness had settled between us after that night at the speakeasy, and it had increased after I’d chewed the damn delivery guy out on the porch. After she stood there, looking breathless, while I tried not to kiss her.
Something had shifted. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but things were different now.
We stood a little closer to each other than we used to.
Our conversations lingered longer than professionalism dictated.
I caught myself looking for her whenever something funny happened, wanting to see her reaction before I’d even processed my own.
Somewhere along the way, she’d become the person I most looked forward to talking to each day.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Thank you.” I poured coffee while trying not to die. Or vomit. Or both.
The children were scattered around the kitchen in varying states of spring break excitement.
Bianca had three books stacked beside her plate despite school being out.
CJ was sketching a group of people being attacked by rabid eels.
Billie had clipped a dinosaur tail to her pajama bottoms and was wiggling her hips as she walked around the kitchen island, making the tail swish.
Normal chaos. Comforting chaos.
I rubbed at my temple.
Winnie noticed immediately. “Migraine?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
“You should take something before it fully settles in.”
I gestured at her with my coffee mug. “You’re becoming alarmingly competent at diagnosing me.”
“You become very squinty when you feel unwell.”
“I do not become squinty.”
Bianca glanced up from her book. “You definitely become squinty.”
I gave her a quick glance and stuck my tongue out. “Traitor.”
The doorbell rang before I could continue defending my dignity, and I winced. Too loud.
“An intruder,” Billie growled in an imitation of a dinosaur.
“I’ll get it,” I muttered.
The headache pulsed harder as I crossed the foyer. I opened the front door and blinked against the glare. “Amethyst?”
My sister-in-law stood on the porch in oversized sunglasses and an expensive cream-colored trench coat despite the warming weather.
She was even taller than Jade had been, all elegant limbs and perfect posture, though unlike her sister, Amethyst carried tension outwardly instead of hiding it beneath composure.
Her blonde hair was twisted into a low knot that probably took an hour to look that effortless.
She lowered her sunglasses slightly. “Conrad? You look absolutely awful.”
“Good morning to you too.”
She gestured in my direction. “You have that migraine face.”
Apparently, everyone had formed a committee about my expressions and their not-so-hidden meanings.
Amethyst stepped inside and immediately Billie screamed from the kitchen. “Auntie Amethyst!”
Then came the thunder of little feet. Amethyst barely had time to crouch before Billie launched herself into her arms at full speed.
CJ arrived more casually but hugged her tightly anyway. Bianca trailed after him, trying to appear dignified while obviously emotional about seeing her aunt for the first time in several months.
Watching them together made me momentarily forget about my migraine.
Of course she’d come by. Mother’s Day was approaching. The anniversary season had started again. Every year around this time, grief moved differently through all of us.
Amethyst hugged the children fiercely before standing. “Wow,” she said as she looked around. “This house got significantly louder since I was last here.”
CJ pointed at his little sister. “That would be Billie.”
Billie beamed proudly.
Winnie stepped out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. Amethyst noticed her immediately.
Most people did.
Especially now that Winnie had settled fully into the household and looked less like an ominous being haunting the property. Today, she was in another long black dress with fitted sleeves despite the warmer weather, her fiery hair braided loosely over one shoulder.
Amethyst blinked once, then twice. “Oh,” she said.
That was an… interesting response.
Winnie smiled politely. “Good morning.”
Amethyst recovered quickly and extended a hand. “You must be Winifred.”
“Please, call me Winnie.”
“I’ve heard a great deal about you from my weekly calls with the kids.”
Winnie’s eyes flicked toward me. That tiny look somehow made my pulse stumble despite the migraine currently drilling into my skull.
“All good things, I hope,” Winnie said.
CJ snorted loudly. “Depends who you ask.”
Bianca elbowed him.
Laughing, Amethyst turned her attention back to Winnie. “I’m sorry, but I just have to ask.”
“About the clothing?” Winnie guessed.
Amethyst’s face lit up. “Thank God, yes. I keep expecting you to announce that the west wing is forbidden.”
I cringed until I saw Winnie give a soft smile. “I’m deeply committed to sun protection.”
“Fair enough.”
“Skin preservation is important,” Winnie continued.
Amethyst tilted her head thoughtfully. “Honestly, with your complexion? Whatever you’re doing is working. I need to hear all about your skin routine. I can never find the right combination for my dry skin.”
Winnie smiled politely, and I tried my best not to think about her complexion and how silky smooth it was under the high neckline and long sleeves. God, I wanted to see that skin again.
The migraine chose that exact moment to stab directly through my left eye. I winced hard enough that both women noticed.
Amethyst frowned. “Oh, Conrad.”
“I’m fine. Really. It’s just a headache.”
“You’re absolutely not fine.”
“Why don’t you at least sit down?” Winnie said.
I scowled. “I’m almost forty years old. I think I’m perfectly capable of knowing when to sit and when to stand, thank you very much.”
Winnie lowered her voice. “Yes, and you’re also currently losing a fight against sunlight.”
Unfortunately, that was accurate. So, I led the way into the family room and sat.
Winnie disappeared briefly into the kitchen before returning with water, medication, and something cold wrapped in cloth.
“You’re frighteningly efficient,” Amethyst observed.
Winnie handed me the medicine. “I’ve had a lot of practice over the years.”
Something about the way she said it carried weight beneath the humor.
Amethyst seemed to notice too. Before either of us could respond, she brightened suddenly. “Oh! Actually, I came for a reason.”
CJ looked alarmed. “Do you have a tax question for Dad?”
She laughed. “No, of course not. Though, I’m always open to pointers from the financial guru.”
Amethyst pulled several glossy passes from her bag dramatically.
“I was comped VIP tickets through one of our donors,” she announced.
“They’re for the amusement park downtown.
Full access. Unlimited ride bands.” She paused and looked around the house theatrically.
“Do you think anyone around here would be interested in these? If not, I suppose I could give them to one of my colleagues.”
The children exploded instantly. Billie screamed so loudly my migraine nearly filed a restraining order. Bianca’s book tumbled out of her hand. CJ grabbed one of the passes with reverent awe. “Fast pass access?”
“Unlimited.”
“No freaking way,” he whispered.
Amethyst grinned. “I thought maybe we could all go today.”
The kids turned toward me hopefully.
And God, I wanted to. I wanted a normal spring-break day with my children.
I wanted to ride roller coasters and eat overpriced funnel cake.
Even Billie throwing up from going on all the spinning rides sounded like fun.
But the migraine was escalating fast now.
The edges of my vision had started shimmering unpleasantly. Even the children’s excitement hurt.
A protective tenderness filled Winnie’s eyes. “You should stay home,” she murmured.
“I’m okay.”
Winnie gave a slight shake of her head. “You’re one loud noise away from meeting God.”
Billie’s eyes went wide. “Can we see God at the amusement park?”
“No,” Bianca said automatically. “That’s not included in the VIP access.”
“Conrad,” Amethyst said, frowning at me.
I exhaled slowly. “I don’t think I can do it, but I really don’t want to miss out on all the fun. Plus, I don’t want to leave you alone with all three kids.”
Three disappointed faces stared back at me. The guilt came just as fast. Then, to my surprise, all three children started talking over each other about staying home instead.
“We can go another day.”
“You need to rest, Daddy.”
“I can ride roller coasters later.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. That was the thing about my kids. Even at their most chaotic, they loved hard—too hard, sometimes.
“No,” I said gently. “Absolutely not. You should go.”
“But—”
“Your aunt took time off. You deserve a fun day.” I squinted in Amethyst’s direction. “That is, of course, if you’re up to the challenge of being a single parent for a day.”
“Oh, hush. You do this every day. I can handle one day with my favorite kids on the planet.”
Billie climbed halfway into my lap despite being far too tall to fit comfortably anymore. “We don’t wanna leave you when you’re sick.”
I kissed the top of her head. “I’ll survive.”