Lachy’s the one who breaks it. “I hate you guys,” he says, jumping off the island. “I wish I was a twin.”
“And make everyone have to deal with two of you?” Lincoln cracks.
“Absolutely not,” Linc and I say in sync. Then smirk the same way. “Daaad!” we singsong. “Lachy said hehatesus!”
Dad appears in the kitchen doorway. “We don’t use that wordatpeople, Lachy,” Dad grumbles.
Lachy rolls his eyes while Linc moves to stand beside me. We face our little brother, and even though I don’tseemy twin, I know he crosses his arms at the same time I do. Plasters on the same shit-eating grin, too. “Yeah, Lachy,” we tease.
Dad sighs—so over our bullshit. “Prepare an extra seat tonight, Linc. I have a special guest joining us.”
“Whatspecial guest?” Linc, Lachy, and I say in unison. Dad doesn’t havegueststo the house. He barely even has friends. Most of the people he interacts with either workforhim or want somethingfromhim.
Dad answers, “She’ll be here soon.”
“She?” All three of us again.
Dad nods, runs a hand over his flannel shirt. “And I need to change.”
Again, all three of us. “Change?”
Dad doesn’t respond to our echoes. He just leaves the room. We all watch as he walks from the kitchen, through the lounge, and up the stairs. We wait until we hear his bedroom door close before facing each other.
For a long moment, we stand there, speechless.
“Maybe it’s Aunt Leslee,” Lachlan says.
“Nah,” Linc responds. “He wouldn’t sayspecialguest.”
“Shouldwechange?” I ask. If Dad has a “special guest” coming over, maybe we should present well for him. Or?—
“What the hell is happening?” Lincoln mumbles.
I pull out my phone. “I’ll ask Logan if he knows.”
Liam
Dad has a special guest coming for dinner. It’s a *she*
Linc and Lachlan close in and look at my phone while we await a response. The message is read, but no reply comes. Instead, the front door bursts open and Logan rushes toward us, skidding to a stop. He’s so out of breath, he must’ve sprinted from his garage apartment to us. “Awhat?” he asks.
We shrug.
“I told you all the info we know,” I tell him.
“What does thatmean?”
We all step back when we hear thefee-fi-fo-fumsteps of a giant coming down the stairs. Only it’s not any giant. It’s Dad. And he’s changed into slacks and a button-up shirt.Fancy. “Logan!” he cheers, clapping Logan on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you’d be here. You didn’t respond to the text. Are you staying for dinner?”
Logan shrugs, plays it cool. “Red’s at Mia’s, and I’m too lazy to cook.”
“Well, there should be enough food for everyone,” Dad says, all nonchalant, as if he hasn’t just dropped a bomb and we’re all waiting for it to explode.
“Sounds good,” Logan says, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.
“Speaking of food,” Dad says, checking his watch. “I better go pick up the dessert before the bakery closes.”
“Dessert?” Linc and I mouth at each other.Ifwe have dessert at home, it’s usually ice cream or candy or whatever we find in the pantry.The fuck is this bakery bullshit?