Page 74 of Second Story

“Oh, Charles.” He takes over from my hug, both arms around his husband and temporary daughters. “What did I tell you?”

His husband sniffs as I escape to the hallway. “That the road to hell is paved with all of my past three-ways?”

“No. And I’m as certain as I can be that your latest three-way is a sure path to heaven. The girls and Adam would agree. But what did I actually say?”

I’m probably not meant to overhear Hugo answer for his husband.

“I said that the twins won’t forget you. No, they can’t speak yet. Can’t say your name or thank you for helping them feel secure. They’ll remember you each time they believe they’re worth taking care of, long after you say goodbye to them.”

My phone ringing is a reprieve from overhearing more. I don’t get time to be surprised by my brother calling when I almost stumble over little Adam. He’s all huge eyes and worry, two soft, pink rabbits clutched to his chest. “Milly and Tilly’s bedtime buns.”

“Yeah, they are, mate.”

He holds them out. “For their house?”

I’m not sure today is the day the girls will leave for good. “Shall we pop those bunnies back in their cribs for now so theydon’t get lost?” I scoop Adam up then and juggle him, soft toys, and my phone while taking the stairs. “Hold on a minute, Josh, will you?” I don’t wait to find out if he has the time to do that. I’ve got important work to do reassuring a worried preschooler who asks, “Daddy’s sad?”

“Yes.” Honesty is always the best policy when it comes to emotion. So is having time to process, so I stop in the nursery doorway. “Saying goodbye is always hard, but your Daddy will be okay, and so will the twins.” I help Adam drop a bunny into each crib, my phone wedged between my chin and shoulder.“Because here’s the thing about twins—they’ll always have each other.Always.And you know what else they’ll have when they go home to their mummy?”

Adam could be Lenny, he’s so wide-eyed and silent.

“They’ll remember that you taught them all about sharing.You,Adam. You did so good sharing your home with them.” I set him down beside a bookcase and tap the cover of a book I’ve seen Charles read to all three children. “I know a librarian. I bet he’d say that if you shared a book with the twins to take home, they’d find their way back here with it one day and return it.”

This book opens to an inscription like I once left for Lenny, only this one says,Fly high, Adam!Love always, Uncle Rex, so I think fast.

“Or maybe there’s something else you could lend to the girls? Something it takes two to play with, yeah, so they don’t forget how to share, like you’ve been teaching them by sharing both your daddies?”

I start looking, and my memory chooses right now to serve up a reminder of family holidays minus Mum. Of Dad slapping a brand-new jigsaw between me and Josh and promising ice cream just as long as we took turns to slot together pieces without fighting. “How about a puzzle?” I open a toy box. “Onefor babies, not for big boys, like you. Something easy so they can build their sharing muscles.”

A nursery bedroom is a weird place to once again remember Dad teaching us to knot each other’s school ties. Today, my collar is unbuttoned. I still tug at it, as if Josh has pulled my knot too tightly.

“See if you can find something they’ll need each other for, yeah?”

I get back to my call, aware that my tone shifts from gentle to something so much tougher. “Yes?”Christ, I sound like Dad.“What do you want, Josh?” I match the energy I expect to hear next, which comes out sounding way too hard-edged in this bedroom full of soft toys, grating instead of the tender I’ve been with Adam. I leave him distracted with a stack of puzzles and head for the hallway. “Josh?”

When he doesn’t answer, I assume he’s rung off to get back to his computer coding until he stutters, “W-who were you talking to about twins?”

“No one that you need to hack the police database to trace, thanks.” Adam has found a wooden farmyard, busy sorting black sheep as I speak to my family’s one and only white one. “Why did you call?”

“To find out why you’re cancelling this weekend. But first, who was it you were talking to?”

“None of your business. And quit being so suspicious. I was hardly teaching him how to hot-wire engines. I was?—”

“Teaching him how to be a good big brother.” This comes out in a rush. “You’re gonna kill it as an uncle.” Josh isn’t his usual certain. “How... How do you already know how to be a good one? How, Joe, when I don’t even know how to be a dad yet?”

I have to close my eyes and need to take a long and slow breath before I can force this out.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

Josh’s laugh is as strangled. “Fuck off.” For once, it sounds as if he doesn’t mean it, and I’d risk believing if he didn’t immediately tag on a brisker order. “You’re coming home.”

“Not this weekend. Sorry.” I can’t. Not even for Meera, who I don’t think will hold it against me.

She couldn’t. Not if she met Isaac.

I open my mouth without thinking. “Unless I can bring someone with me.” I instantly backtrack. “Forget it.” I’m in no rush for Isaac to meet the two men who’ll always see me as a loser. Dad can’t even look at me without wincing, and Josh is… Josh. Besides, Isaac’s prison visit sounds intense enough already. “Gotta go. Someone has to teach kids how to make drug deliveries. Looks like I’m the resident expert.” And if I’m stopped in my tracks by my brother actually laughing again instead of listing sentencing guidelines, that’s nothing to what stops my heart next.

“Dad brought over three paint rollers in case you were coming. I don’t care who you bring with you. Just come over, yeah?”

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