Page 33 of Third Time Lucky

“What is she doing?” he whispers, obviously scandalized.

I turn in time to see Fiona dumping hot sauce on her eggs. A lot of hot sauce.

Shake. Shake. Shake.

Still going.

“That can’t be a good decision.”

She nods at me in apparent agreement but continues to douse her plate almost compulsively. The cute waiter zips away, possibly afraid he’ll be blamed for whatever happens when a woman this pregnant takes that first fiery bite under his watch. Maybe he’s already calling an ambulance.

“What is happening right now?” I ask the table at large.

“A craving.” Fiona bites her lip, focusing on her eggs. “And yes, I’d love the normal pickles-and-ice-cream type cravings other women talk about, but the last few months this is all I’ve got. I’ve been slipping jalapeños into sandwiches and mainlining sriracha. It’s not giving me heartburn, but I am starting to think my twins aren’t human.”

The father is a fireman. I suppose there’s a kind of symmetry to it.

“Human or not, I think we can all agree they’ll be born without taste buds,” JD comments with a grimace, struggling to get the bottle out of her hand. “This is more than usual, even for you. Are you stress hot-saucing now? What’s going on, Fi?”

She lets him take it and her hand lowers to the stomach that thankfully won’t allow her to get close enough to the table to eat the mess she made. “I had an uncomfortable appointment yesterday. I’m not sure if I need a new therapist now or if she’s right and I should pack it in.”

The therapist has a therapist?

“What did she say to you this time?”

Her lips tremble at JD’s question. “That I was selfish and pushed Wyatt into a ménage relationship he wasn’t ready for. That I’m turning them both gay because I think they’d be better off without me and I don’t want to be happy.”

“I think your therapist is doing it wrong,” I tell her, getting upset on her behalf.

She laughs wetly and JD leans his head on her shoulder. “Let’s be logical for a minute, okay? Wyatt and Thoreau have both been crazy in love with you and chasing you for years. They both knew all your ins and outs before you got together. They definitely know you a hell of a lot better than this lady does. Can you agree with that?”

“Yes.” She sniffles loudly.

“Good. Now Wyatt took his time and made a lot of noise because of his family issues, not because of you. But there is no way anyone could get a Finn or a Wayne to do something they didn’t already want to do. Not with the best carrot-and-stick scenario I could dream up. Most importantly,” he continues. “No matter how gorgeous you are, you definitely can’t turn anyone gay. That’s her ignorance talking. And jealousy, because you have two beautiful men who enjoy each other and can’t wait to be your babies’ daddies. There is nothing wrong with that. Look at Wyatt’s brother, Rory, and his trio. No relationship, no person is perfect, but everyone deserves the chance to be loved. Flaws and all. Anyone who says differently is an idiot and can come at me.”

A rush of pride and approval fills me as I look at my brother. “I second all of that. And I happen to know from personal experience that you can’t make a man gay, no matter how much you might want to. He can be secretly gay and afraid to come out. He can already lean in that direction. He can be a closeted bisexual, but decide after three years of dating you to take all the money out of the special account you opened for him, and propose to the fake-breasted, botoxed star of Vampire Hippos 2: Blood in the Water.”

They both freeze and stare at me like I’ve grown another head.

“For example,” I add quickly, feeling my neck heat with embarrassment.

JD holds up his hand. “We need to stick a pin in that for later, because that’s information I didn’t have before now.”

“We don’t need to stick a pin in anything.”

My brother actually admired me. He told me so on multiple occasions. So, I didn’t tell him about this, because I knew he’d have a hard time believing I’d been someone’s secret Sugar Daddy. That I’d be okay with such an unsatisfying non-relationship.

I’ve never lived as loud as he always has. Never made a big deal about my sexuality, which made sense, considering my career. But when my ex and I were together, I could pretend I was in a normal relationship. Make believe it was real. But it never was. Not really. Neither one of us ever talked about the future. Neither one of us ever mentioned love.

Why was I willing to settle for that?

Why did I date him for three years?

More accurate question: Why did you expensive-long-term-booty-call him for three years?

I push my plate away, my appetite gone.

“Hey now,” JD says, reaching out to pat my shoulder awkwardly. “You’re not the maudlin brother. That’s my job. Maybe Christopher during the holidays. But never you. You’re what happens when Willy Wonka, Peter Pan and Mr. Rogers have a baby.”

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