Ryan puts a hand on her arm. “Angel’s got him a doctor, Mom.”
Mary Ann turns on her son, admiration lighting her eyes. “You thought to ask?”
Angel can’t stop watching mother and son: Mary Ann’s bullying affection, Ryan’s acceptance of it. Her mother is watching them, too. When their eyes meet, Angel smiles at her mother bravely, and Marissa’s eyes fill, her own smile pained. “Of course I’ll come,” she told Angel when she called earlier that evening. “I’ll be right there.”
“So, how’s the basketball team, Ryan?” her dad asks. He seems ill at ease, but he’s trying to make conversation, for which Angel is grateful.
“We had a pretty decent season.” And then he’s off, talking about the coach and layups and team captains. Three mothers, two fathers, all of them arranged around Connor, who flaps the gift bag around his head. Angel is still tense—her chest aches with tension—but she breathes deeply and counts, the way Brianna taught them. Her own beating heart feels vulnerable and very close to the surface.
As they’re leaving, Mary Ann nudges her son. “Go on. Give it to her.”
Ryan produces an envelope and hands it to Angel. “It’s money. Like, child support.”
“We’re fine,” Amadeo says, his voice hard. “We don’t need your money.”
Mary Ann laughs. “Of course you do. Human beings are expensive to raise. I told Ryan I’d help him out until he graduates from college, but that he has to have a job starting pronto.”
“Right.” Her father nods slowly, wary. “Lowe’s is hiring. I just started there.”
“Really?” says Ryan. “Cool.”
Angel turns the envelope in her hand, flushing. “Well, thanks.”
“I’m not sure thanks is quite right. It’s the least you should expect. This is just the beginning. We’ll talk more about what you guys need. We’re all family now.” Mary Ann hands the baby back to Angel. “Bye, little sweetie. Well, we’ll let you have your evening.” As they head out to the car, Mary Ann reaches up to tousle Ryan’s hair.
“Mary Ann?” Angel calls through the screen door.
She turns. “Yeah, hon?”
“Good to meet you.”
“Oh, hon. I’m so happy to meet you.”
Before Angel shuts the door, Ryan jogs back across the gravel. They regard each other through the screen.
“Thanks for being nicer to me,” he says.
“It’s okay.”
“Well, bye, Angle. Obtuse Angle.”
The moment the door is shut, as if aware of the tension draining from the room, Connor sets to wailing. Angel bounces him quiet.
“Well,” says Amadeo. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“I like them,” Marissa says. “They seem like good people.”
“Maybe you and Ryan will, you know . . .” Her dad waggles his head to indicate the range of possibilities.
“Yeah, no. Never gonna happen, Dad.”
“Still.”
Angel kisses Connor’s hair, then sets him down. She hoists the platter. “They didn’t even take a cookie. We forgot to offer them something to drink.”
“Right. Well, that Mary Ann couldn’t stop talking long enough to drink anything. We got through it. You did great, Angel.”
“Really great,” her mom says. She steps closer and says in a low voice, “Listen, Angel, about Mike. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”