Page 71 of Twins for the Enemy

Chapter twenty-one

~FARAH~

“I’m just saying the mattresses are unnecessary.” I look down at my palm, which is still a bit raw from rock climbing. “I haven’t been pregnant for almost seven months now.”

“I don’t want you to fall onto the hard floor, whether you’re pregnant or not.” His hand reaches over, his fingers sliding between mine. He’s so much larger than me that my hand almost disappears under his. Instead of feeling suffocating, it feels safe, like a promise of security.

Kieran glances toward the backseat. It’s out of habit, but the twins are with Ellie tonight.I can still imagine them back there, secured in their car seats. Olivia would be fast asleep while Neal’s eyes widened over every building. When I’d look back at him, his eyes would light up as he smiled. I’d stick my tongue out at him, and he’d laugh. My chest aches with how much I love them both.

If I call Ellie in four minutes, at least ten minutes will have passed since the last time I called her, which is a little less psychotic than calling now.

I turn forward again. “I’m in a harness. I won’t fall on the floor.”

“You tripped on a flat parking lot yesterday,” he says. “Early in our relationship, you sprained your ankle. I love and trust your mind, but your luck and dexterity need to exist in a padded room. Or on several mattresses.”

“Oh, you think I don’t have dexterity?” I tease, reaching over and resting my hand on his thigh. It twitches closer to me. “You don’t think my hands are skilled?”

“You can be as clumsy with me as you want,” he says, smiling at me. And the way he looks at me—it’s like he’s giving me permission to be exactly who I am. Like I don’t have to brace for the worst. Under his light, I feel like I could glow bright enough to turn this cold Chicago night into a beach day in LA.

I tuck my hair behind my ears. Most of it falls right back in front of my face. I consider tying it up into a messy bun, but the gala we’re heading to is in honor of Kieran for his monumental donation to Astasio Botanical Garden. The $9 million was a nod to the day of my birth, and the $11 million—because I was born in November—went to Intertwined Skies, a group that helps kids in abusive situations. I considered talking him out of it, but telling someone not to donate to abused kids felt pretty awful. At least it made me feel less spoiled than last year, when he gave me a Mercedes, built an addition onto our rural home so I’d have a home office after finishing my training to advocate for vulnerable children—and surprised me with a birthday trip to Mykonos.

I’d told him about feeling like it was too much, and this seemed to be his compromise.

I’d told him once that all the extravagant gifts made me feel overwhelmed—and this felt like his answer to that.

As he parks in front of the fountain, I’m hit by a rush of memory—of blood racing and something catching fire inside me that’s still burning now.

It’s wild to me that I still get that same feeling every time he touches me.

I don’t need to reach into the past for proof of what we are. I used to spend so much time wishing Neal could be someone he used to be. But with Kieran, I’m fully here. There’s no need to time-travel. What we have now is better than any memory.

As we get out of the car, we gravitate toward each other, our hands and shoulders brushing against one another before he takes my hand. The dress I’m wearing was made to reflect the botanical garden—a white lace dress with yellow, periwinkle, and dark blueflowers that start small on the top half of the dress and get larger as they tumble down the skirt. Stems curl and twist down the length of it and form the straps, which are faintly obscured by lace with a pattern that looks like baby’s breath.

When Kieran kisses my shoulder, it sends a warm shiver down me. I grip his hand tighter, and we head toward the conservatory.

The conservatory is massive. I hadn’t noticed it when we first came here because it was dark, but it’s impossible to ignore as we get closer. It resembles an old Victorian house, but it’s much larger, and it’s almost entirely made of glass. If it’s meant to be a greenhouse for plants, the plants inside it must be monstrous.

“Should I call Ellie now?” I ask. “It might be too loud to call her from inside.”

“Let’s give Ellie at least fifteen minutes,” he says. “We’ll do a video chat with her and the twins. We can step outside and show them the fountain.”

“Oh, good idea.” I wrap my arm around his arm, resting my cheek on his bicep. His suit feels softer than silk, while his tie matches my dress—white silk with flowers drifting down to the end of it. “Do you think they miss us?”

“Everybody misses you when you leave,” he says, grabbing the door to the conservatory. I put my hand on his arm. The hairs on the back of my neck are raised.

“Are you sure the party is here?” I ask. “Why are all the lights so low? I don’t hear anybody.”

“They’re setting an atmosphere,” he says. “Don’t worry, Farah, if a gang of ecologists decides to attack us, I know how to make a Molotov cocktail.”

“Did they teach that in foster care?” I mutter.

“Yeah, Delgado showed me how to do it at the Rider residence.” He pushes the door open. I step inside with him, but I’m still clinging to his arm.

I stop. Nobody’s here. The faint glow of lights in the floor and the light from the moon filtering through the ceiling only reveal an abandoned information deskand a massive oak tree growing from the center of the conservatory. It almost looks like shimmering cobwebs cling to the branches, but instead of forming a net, they’re dangling toward the floor.

I take a step closer, my fingers still wrapped around Kieran’s, and he lets me tug him forward.

They’re not cobwebs. They’re silver chains. They’re draped over the branches, like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Like someone needed a place to organize fifty or sixty necklaces. A charm hangs from each one of them.

---