“Okay. Sam, why don’t you go play dress-up?—”
“I don’t want to play dress-up by myself.” Sam crosses her arms, staring up at me like it’s the dumbest thing in theworld. Her caramel-brown hair is pulled back into a messy braid.
Five years since their hair got long enough, and I still can’t manage a passable braid to save my life. Bright, blue eyes are full of annoyance. Turning my attention to her identical twin, I’m met with the same look.
“And I don’t want to play dress-up, so you have to play by yourself, Sam.”
“Dad!” Sam screams, stomping her foot. “Tell her to stop being mean.”
I scrub a hand down my face, trying to quell my own rising frustration at the escalating situation. When the two of them entered second grade, it’s like their personalities flipped a switch. They became two different people. Two different people that can’t seem to get along no matter what I do.
“Then go play in your room, Sam, and Sadie, you can play chess down here.”
She quirks a brow at me. “By myself? I can’t play chess by myself.”
“Can’t you be both colors?”
Sadie rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll know the moves to do though. I won’t learn anything by playing myself.”
“You have the book you can use,” Sam tells her. “That means you can play by yourself.”
“That means you can play by yourself too. Right, Dad?”
Sadie pins me with a stare. No matter how I answer this question, I’m not going to give them an answer that either will like.
Fuck. The problem with raising twin girls. Most days, I’m flying by the seat of my pants and feeling that whatever I do isn’t good enough for them.
Maybe if I had someone, it’d be easier. But not just anyone.
There’s only one person who could have handled this. But there’s no use going down that path right now.
The chime from my phone signals the doorbell. Thank God. Both girls run to the door and peek out the glass on the side windows.
“It’s pizza!” Sam yells, excitement now coming from her. At least one girl is happy.
“Why are we having pizza tonight? Isn’t pizza for special nights?” Sadie asks.
“Shh!” Sam says. “I want pizza.”
“It’s not like we’re going to return the pizza,” I tell them, walking to the door. “I didn’t have time to make dinner after practice before the thing at school tonight.”
“It’s not a thing, Dad. It’s fall parent night so you can see everything we’ve done so far.”
I smile at her as I open the door. I fish a large tip out of my wallet and hand it to the delivery guy. Seeing as how I order from them more than I should, they know me. And if I keep giving them good tips, we get pizza faster.
Meaning I keep the girls happy.
“Thanks, man.”
“Anytime, Mr. Evans. Thanks for the tip.” He jogs down the stairs as I kick the door shut behind me.
Holding the box down, I let them grab the breadsticks and juice boxes from the top and watch as they run into the kitchen and take their seats at the table.
“Gigi will be over in a little bit. I have to go meet with your teachers.”
“Why can’t Gigi meet our teachers and you stay home with us?” Sam whines.
I set my crust down and lean across the table. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to meet your teacher?”
