"Dad."
"I'm a planner, Iris. You got it from somewhere."
God, this whole conversation is embarrassing but I shouldn’t have expected any less. Iris and our coach are meticulous planners. I’m surprised Iris hadn’t mapped all this out yet. Or maybe she has and has been waiting for the right moment to let us in.
Milo swallows his bite and straightens in his chair. "This lasagna is delicious, sir. Thank you. Truly. Best I've ever had."
Coach stares at him for a beat. "Don't change the subject."
"We still have a lot to talk about," I cut in, drawing his attention back to me. "But we won't make any rash decisions. We'll figure out the living situation and the timeline when we're ready. Not before."
Coach studies my face and then nods. "See that you don't." He turns to Milo. "Now. Blockers."
Milo groans, his head tipping back against the wall. "But they taste funny! And I really wanted to eat this lasagna and actually taste it. You can't put scent blockers and lasagna in the same evening, sir. It's cruel."
"You'll survive."
"I might not. This could be a medical situation. Iris, tell your father this is a medical situation."
Iris is biting her lip so hard I can see the indent. "It's not a medical situation, Milo."
Coach sets his fork down again and looks at Iris with an expression that's equal parts love and exhaustion. "Iris. Please tell me you're sure about these men so I don't strangle them."
"Yes, Dad. I'm sure." She reaches over and squeezes his arm. "No strangling the boyfriends."
Milo fist-pumps so hard his elbow catches the edge of the casserole dish. "I'm safe!" A chunk of lasagna launches off the serving spoon and lands with a wet splat on the table, right next to Coach's hand.
The table goes silent. Coach looks down at the lasagna splatter, then up at Milo, his expression unreadable.
Iris giggles, the sound escaping before she can stop it, and she reaches over to drag Milo's chair closer to hers, pulling him against her side like she's claiming him before her father can revoke the no-strangling policy. Milo goes willingly, tucking into her, his ears crimson.
"I swear," Coach says, wiping the table with his napkin, "I don't know how you survive, Milo."
"Because of me," I say. "Somehow I got the common sense and he got the..." I trail off, gesturing vaguely at Milo's entire situation. Milo's mouth drops open.
"Damn, Q. That's harsh." He recovers quickly, wrapping his arm around Iris' shoulders and pulling her closer. "Doesn't even matter because we have Iris. And part of that is because of me. I'm the one who found the auction listing. I'm the one who had the vision."
"You had a crush. I had the money."
"Teamwork, Q. It's called teamwork."
Coach watches the three of us, his expression shifting through something I can't fully read. The gruffness is still there, the coach's armor he wears like a second skin, but underneath it there's something quieter settling into place. His gaze moves to Iris, tucked between the two of us, laughing. "It's definitely going to be a full house from now on," he says, his voice rougher than it was a minute ago. "But for once, I'll welcome the change. It's gotten a little quiet over the years." He clears his throat, picks up his fork, and takes another bite of lasagna. "Welcome to the family."
Milo's eyes fill with tears, opening his mouth to say something.
Coach cuts him off. "If you cry into my lasagna, I'm revoking the welcome."
"Too late," Milo says, already wiping his face. "It's in there now. Adds flavor."
Coach leaves with a handshake for both of us and a hug for Iris. Iris watches him walk down the hallway, only closing the door when we hear the building door shut behind him. She twists around to face us, my brother leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed, his eyes still a little red. He chews his bottom lip for a few seconds, working through something, andthen looks at both of us. "This is like a thing, right?" His voice comes out a little hesitant. "Like a forever thing. Like we're going to start looking for apartments and stuff. Because when your dad mentioned it, I realized we hadn’t talked about anything after graduation or like… anything."
Iris crosses the kitchen and pulls him into a kiss, her hands finding his jaw, holding him there until his shoulders drop and his body softens against the counter. "Yes, Milo. That's on the agenda." She pulls back just enough to meet his eyes, her thumbs tracing along his cheekbones. "I just didn't know how to bring it up because I wasn't sure that you—"
"I want the same thing." The words come out fast, tumbling over each other. "All the things. Especially your nest." His ears go pink. "Well, you in your nest. You specifically. In the nest. With us."
I lean against the doorframe and laugh. "Jesus Christ. I'm glad she likes you for you."
"I'm a gem, Q. You're just the package deal."
