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The boy just sat staring at us. His hair was the same rich chestnut brown as the girl’s, cut short with a wave of bangs that hung into his eyes. The eyes were brown and dark and not friendly. Edward had said the boy was fourteen, but he was one of those boys that look younger. He could have passed for twelve easily. He looked sullen and angry as he watched Edward and Donna hug, the little girl still in Edward’s arms so it was a family hug. Edward whispered something in Donna’s ear that made her laugh and pull away blushing.

He swung the girl to his other arm and asked, “How’s my best girl?”

She giggled and started talking in a high excited voice. She was telling some long complicated story about her day that involved butterflies and a cat and Uncle Raymond and Aunt Esther. I assumed they were the neighbors that had played babysitter for the day.

The boy turned his hostile eyes from Edward to me. The frown did not lessen, but the eyes went from angry to curious, as if I wasn’t what he’d expected. I actually get that a lot from men of all ages. I ignored the happy family stuff and held out my hand to him. “I’m Anita Blake.”

He gave me his hand half hesitating as if most people didn’t offer. His grip was unsure as if he needed practice, but he said, “Peter, Peter Parnell.”

I nodded. “Good to meet you.” I would have said his mother said good things about him, but that wasn’t strictly true, and Peter struck me as someone who respected truth.

He nodded vaguely, eyes flicking to his mother and Edward. He didn’t like it, not one little bit, and I didn’t blame him. I remembered how I’d felt when my father brought Judith home. I’d never really forgiven my father for marrying her only two years after my mother’s death. I hadn’t finished my grieving and he was moving on with his life, being happy again. I’d hated him for it and hated Judith more.

Even if Edward had truly been Ted Forrester, and his intentions honorable, it would have been a difficult situation. As it was, it sucked.

Becca was wearing a bright yellow sundress with daisies on it. She had yellow ribbons at the end of each neat braid. The hand she put over her mouth to smother a giggle still had that soft, round baby look to it. She was looking at Edward as if he was the eighth wonder of the world. In that moment I hated Edward, hated that he could lie to the child so completely and not understand that it was wrong.

Something must have shown on my face because Peter was giving me a strange considering look. Not angry, but thoughtful. I forced my face blank and met his eyes. He held my gaze for a few seconds, but finally had to look away. Probably not fair to bring out my full stare on one angry fourteen-year-old boy, but to do less would imply that he was less, and he wasn’t, just young. And time would cure that. Donna took Becca back from Edward’s arms and turned towards me smiling. “This is Becca.”

“Hi, Becca,” I said and smiled because she was one of those children that made it easy to smile.

“And this is Peter,” she said.

“We’ve met,” I said.

Donna gave a funny look from me to Peter and back to me. I realized she thought we’d literally met before. “We introduced ourselves already,” I said.

She relaxed and gave a nervous laugh. “Of course. Silly of me.”

“You were just too busy to notice,” Peter said, and his voice held what the actual words did not: scorn.

Donna looked at him as if she didn’t know what to say, and finally, said, “I’m sorry, Peter.”

She shouldn’t have apologized. It implied she’d done something wrong, and she hadn’t. She didn’t know that Ted Forrester was an illusion. She was holding up her end of the bargain for happily ever after. Apologizing makes you sound weak, and from the look on Peter’s face Donna needed all the strength she could get.

Donna slid into the booth first, then Becca, and Edward on the outside, with one leg hanging out from the booth. Peter had already sat down in the middle of his side of the booth. I sat down beside him and he didn’t move over, so I found enough seat to be comfortable