Felix shrugged. “Maybe I did. Fireworks are too loud for Bingus and Bongus here,” he said, patting each of them on their silky baby heads.
“What did you call my precious baby god-children?” Lola asked, snuggling Bong-er, West closer to her.
“That’s what we call them at home,” Zane explained. “Oscar and Westwood just seem like really big names for such tiny, littleguys.” When Oscar reached for him, Zane took him absently. “So we call them Bingus and Bongus because those are the names of the cats on the videos they like on YouTube.”
“Your ten-month-olds watch cat videos on YouTube?” Noah asked.
“As opposed to what?” Asa asked. “Fox News?”
“Aren’t there like…kid’s shows?BarneyorDoc McStuffins?” Noah asked.
Felix arched a brow at him. “You sure you don’t want your own kids? You’d finally have someone to watch cartoons with.”
“He has me,” Adam said. “Stop trying to induct us into your cult of parenthood. We’ll just borrow your crotch-fruit whenever we start to think we want kids.”
“If you ever call my children crotch-fruit again, you’re going to find your crotch unable to propagate. Or whatever farming metaphor works for me castrating you,” Felix said.
“Seriously, though. What did I miss?” Lola asked.
Calliope appeared, holding baby Theo, who was dressed in the world’s most adorably dorky sailor suit. “What’s happening,” she asked, snuggling up to Lola.
West reached down and grabbed a handful of Theo’s collar attempting to put it in his mouth, grunting when the fabric wouldn’t give.
“A lot,” Noah said.
“Give us the Cliff’s Notes version,” Calliope said, staring at the four kids in the center of a bunch of adults. “Cause this is starting to look a little like the Salem witch trials.”
“OrChildren of the Corn,” Lola said with a shiver.
Adam sighed. “Beatrice beheaded Ken and put his head in Barbie’s oven in her Malibu dream house. The girl’s then hunted down Beatrice, waterboarded her and took their revenge.”
Lucas turned slowly to Adam, narrowing his eyes at him. “How do you know it’s Barbie’s Malibu dream house and not her townhouse, Adam?”
Adam’s eyes got big, like he realized he’d made a mistake. “Shit. Listen,” Adam said, holding up his hands. “It’s my job—as the cool uncle—to create these realistic—albeit disturbing—scenarios in order for them to learn how to handle themselves in a crisis. You should be thank?—”
Lucas shoved Adam with both hands, receiving a slight sense of satisfaction at hearing hit the water, then sputter to the surface, his hair standing in spikes like a cockatoo.
“Real mature, Lucas. I thought you were the adult here,” Adam called as Lucas walked back to his husband, giving Adam the finger as he did.
“Papa,” Adelyn said. “Daddy just pushed Adam in the pool. Is he gonna be in time-out?”
August chuckled. “No, darlings.Thatis what we in the Mulvaney family call karmic justice.”
“Oh,” the girls said in unison.
“Oh, indeed,” August agreed, giving Lucas a hard kiss. “Let’s go eat.”
“Ho-ly shit.”
Jericho paused, his drink halfway to his lips, doing his best to follow his brother-in-law, Avi’s, line of sight. At first, he saw nothing. The event was crowded, the music was grating, and Jericho’s collar felt like it was choking him. Atticus had jokingly said it was because Jericho never stopped working. Jericho had countered that it was manhandling Atticus in bed that was to blame.
Whatever the case, he felt like he was being strangled. More so when he saw where Avi was pointing. No. Fucking. Way. Jericho’s whole body went hot, then cold, his jaw clenching. His fingers found his collar, tugging his tie loose and undoing his top-collar button, before he exploded out of the material with rage like the Hulk.
She stood across the room, wearing a dress the same ice blue as her cold dead heart, her overly pointy features on full display as she gave a fake laugh to the weak-chinned old white dude standing beside her. Jericho heaved an irritated sigh, draining his drink in one go before slamming it back on the bar.
“Still up to her old tricks, I see,” Asa said with an eye roll.
Kendra. Atticus’s ex-fiancée. Even the word fiancée when uttered in reference to his husband made him…stabby. She had tried—and almost succeeded in getting her hooks in him for years. The idea of Atticus shackled for life to that…woman… Yeah, no. He could feel his chest heaving, his pulse racing. He had never truly hated a stranger this much, but he’d truly loathed her from the moment he’d looked up her Facebook page the night he and Atticus had met.
