“Babies.” It’s going to take a while to adapt to the plural version of the word. “And no, not exactly.”
“O-kay, so why exactly am I sitting down?”
“I’m not sure if Bash is the father.”
The silence is deafening. I glance left and right before crossing the street without checking for men in black. Then, “Wait, you slept with someone else, and you’re only now telling me this? Why? Did you think that I would get all judgmental on you and accuse you of being a floozy? Girl, have you met me?”
“Bash Murray has a twin. His name is Cash. They have the same tattoo, Ariel. They look the same, so I ignored the missing scar on his eyebrow, and the different hairstyle, and I had sex with them both and now…”
A woman walking by stares at me as though she heard every word despite the massive pink earphones covering her ears.
I lower my voice. “I don’t know which one is the father, and a paternity test isn’t going to be much help. Same DNA,” I add when Ariel still doesn’t speak. “Say something.”
Ariel’s chuckle filters through the handset. “You got two sex-gods for the price of one.”
I press my cell phone closer to my ear and hiss, “I’m pregnant, remember? With twins.”
“Because twins are genetic,” Ariel states the obvious. “Did you tell them?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And then I left. It was horrible, Ariel. They both looked at me as if I’d grown horns and a tail.”
“You left without hearing what they had to say about it?”
“Yes. I was confused. They?—”
I stop when I hear footsteps coming up behind me. I turn around, and George is there. His left eye is turning black and is almost completely closed. His bottom lip is swollen and split, and bruising is creeping across his jawline.
“George?”
“George?” Ariel repeats from my bed in our dorm room. “Who the fuck is George? Please tell me this isn’t your ex, Remy? Don’t you have enough shit to?—”
“Gotta go.” I end the call, cutting her off mid-sentence. “What happened to you?”
I glance around the street. I’m not far from the residence halls, and I have the vague recollection of Bash—or maybe it was Cash—telling me that George had been spotted hanging around near here. Whatever our history, he’s clearly hurt, and I can’t turn my back on him because the Murray twins might get offended by us talking.
“Can we go somewhere?” He’s shaking.
“Okay.” It’s probably best to take this somewhere private, but not my dorm room. I don’t want him to know where I stay.
Instead, we find a small café on a side street, and George takes a seat near the back while I order him a coffee from the counter. I’ve had my caffeine quota for the day, and my budget won’t stretch to two unplanned coffees after the train fare to and from my mom’s.
“What happened?” I ask when I join him.
My first thought is that this has something to do with his fiancée. I don’t know why. Maybe some small irrational part of my brain wants him to get payback for the way he treated me, but guilt soon sets in when he presses a napkin to his lip and it comes away bloody.
“Your boyfriend did this.” He looks me straight in the eye when he says it, and I hate myself for looking away first.
“My boyfriend?” My heart is thudding, making me feel nauseous, just when I thought I was over the worst of the morning sickness. “I-I don’t know who you mean.”
“Cassius Murray. Or are you more interested in his brother, Bastien?”
“They’re not my… You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Seriously? You’re still going to lie to me, Remy, after what we meant to each other.”
