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She slips into the seat and holds up the dragon, scrutinizing him. “Well, aren’t you a cutie, Number Twelve?” She glances my way and I want the ground to swallow me up – she’s not some teenage girl at the county fair I’m trying to hook up with, she’s my temporary wife. “If a little narcissistic,” she adds, giving me the gentlest smirk, like she doesn’t believe her own teasing words.

“Not as cute as the real twelve, though,” I tell her. “And don’t worry, we’ve had the chat, he knows I’m the boss man, even if he’s the only twelve sharing your bed tonight.”

“Toxic masculinity, if ever I heard it,” she says. Her laughter has the effect of lowering my pulse rate. “Thank you. I never would have won one myself. It’s nice to have a memento of the day.” She strokes the little tuft of fur on top of the dragon’s head. “My time here,” she almost whispers.

I realize I’m staring at her and the way she hugs the dragon to her stomach, and I have the craziest thought: she’d make a great mom one day.

“Could you hold these, please?” I ask, my voice breaking and edgy as I hold out the food cartons.

She nods, letting go of her Number Twelve to accept the food.

“You had fun today,” I state, because it’s fact, as I pull onto the road.

“It was nice to feel part of it, rather than a guest on the periphery,” she says. “I probably didn’t work as hard as I ought to have, honestly. It was great to see Mitch back in the fold, though, and seeing the happiness of all the kids and their families was pretty special. They got so into their games of hockey and soccer, softball.”

I nod. “This is how sport should be played at their age; fun, no pressure. They don’t have to compete or be the last to get picked, they just play, you know?”

“I’m sorry your dad was so hard on you growing up, Jax.”

The words feed like a bolt of lightning. Unexpected. Abrupt. As if she’s been ruminating on them, which is very Sienna. Rational. Logical. Mostly the opposite of me, though lately, I think I’m taking a leaf out of her book. Taking a beat to consider my words before speaking or acting. I like it on her. The pause. The reflection. It makes her seem… considered, wise, like the philosophers I’ve studied. It’s also why she’s so annoying in an argument and always beats me.

“Come on, privileged kid problems, right?” I tell her. Then add with a shrug, “He pushed me to where I am today.”

“You can be insanely grateful for that and miss the warmth you didn’t get at the same time.”

I swallow deeply, suppressing her words and the immediate chord they strike in me. “He was warm if I was lighting the lamp,” I tell her, which sounds like a witty retort in my mind but in the car, it sounds more… sad.

She smiles softly. No judgment. She’s hit the nail on the head.

I love my dad, my whole family, and I’d take a bullet for every one of them, but a pat on the back simply for being alive sometimes would have been nice as a kid.

“I got warmth from my mom,” I tell her. And as I focus back on the road, I’m considering how awful I’ve been to get married and not loop her in. How hurt she’ll be when I get divorced in eight weeks, too.

“Are you okay?” Sienna asks.

I nod. “Great.”

Except maybe I need to take life and what I want from it a little more seriously. I have made a mockery of marriage and on this occasion, I can understand why my dad is pissed.

Did part of me enter into this arrangement with Sienna to tick him off? I don’t know. I don’t want to believe it because I thought I’d dealt with these daddy issues with the team psych. I thought I was better than this now.

But if that wasn’t the reason, was this only to help out Sienna?

We’re both in a mess now. The screenshot on my phone shows one thing but her run-in with her ex earlier was another. Sienna was stilted and stalling and I don’t know if she was doubting her life choices in walking out on that jackass right before I waded in.

“Hey, ah, you should know that Bianca posted us on the clubs socials, playing softball and messing around together,” I say – not a neat segue at all.

“I know. I approved it,” she says, and I damn near crash the car as my foot slips from the accelerator to the break.

“You did?” I ask as I get us back on track.

“It’s okay, isn’t it?”

More than, I think, until my rational brain engages and I ask, “Yeah, fine for me. I mean, it’s good to keep up the image, right?”

She hesitates, I see it in my peripheral vision and hear a change in her voice as she says, “Exactly. Keep up appearances.”

“And great for Carl to see it, after your run-in today?”