Taylor pretended to line the kids’ shoes up, huffing as he shoved them onto the shoe rack. “Youact natural.”
Breakfast was about as enjoyable as a hostage negotiation because every time William opened his mouth, one of the girls snarled. Every time someone tried to ask him a question, they launched blueberries over the table. By the time the plates were being loaded into the dishwasher, Johnny had a pile of fruit in his lap and a very concerned looking Marty clutching his T-shirt.
“They’re gonna kill him,” Marty whispered, rubbing his face along Johnny’s bicep. “I wanna show him the basketball hoop but I don’t think they’ll let me.”
Johnny hummed, dropping his head to his brother’s ear. “I’ll see if Tay can take them into the woods for a bit. But… are you okay with all of this, frérot?”
He gestured to where William and Taylor stood at the sink. Taylor was wearing Maman’s pink marigolds whilst William dried up with a Minions tea towel. Shrugging, Marty wheedled his way under Johnny’s arm until he was sitting on his lap. “It’ll be nice having another boy around, I guess.”
Johnny sighed, resting his cheek on Marty’s head. “I don’t think he’ll be here for long. His social worker’s coming later.”
“What’s a social worker?”
Johnny smiled, kissing his brother’s hair. “Something you’ll never need to worry about.”
Marty’s gaze shifted to Johnny’s bandage as he drummed his fingers across the white gauze. “Can I sign your cast? Teddy at school broke his wrist and everyone wrote on it.”
Johnny winced, trying not to show how much his arm ached. “Sorry, it’s not a cast, just a bandage. It’s probably coming off after my check-up.”
“Aw! What did you do, anyway? Mama said you fell but I bet you were fighting off bad guys.”
Johnny hugged him tight. “Maybe I fell fighting off bad guys. Tripped over my cape.” His eyes flicked to Taylor, not missing the way his shoulders tensed. “Anyway,” he continued, smiling back at Marty, “if I remember correctly, you’re still yet to beat my score on the hoop.”
Chatter moved to how shocking Marty’s aim was when the girls finally reappeared in the kitchen. They were dressed in what could only be described as ‘battle gear.’ Clementine’s braids were pulled into a severe ponytail, and she’d smudged kohl around her eyes. Gabriella had scraped her afro up at the sides so it was piled on top of her head like a mohawk. Both had chains swinging from ripped denim shorts, making them look like they were in an emo biker gang.
Johnny pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. “Wow, how intimidating,” he said, shooting Taylor a sideways glance.
“You may as well take it all off again,” Taylor said, squeezing the suds out of the dish sponge. “We’re going for a run, Just the three of us.”
Gabriella gave William a filthy look. “No, we’re not. We’re staying here.”
“Are you?” Johnny replied, sliding Marty off his lap and walking over to the sink. He hooked a finger under one of Taylor’s Marigold’s, pulling it off and dropping it into the water. Bubbles rose to the surface, and he smirked as he watched the glove fill up. Maman was going to kill him for that.
“If that’s the case I guess you’d better grab a mop, because according to the chore chart you still need to wash the floor.”
Taylor snorted and Marty squealed just as Johnny pulled the glove from the sink and launched it at his sisters. They screamed, throwing up their hands a fraction too late as it bounced off Gabriella’s head and into Clementine’s face.
William slapped a hand over his mouth, backing into the corner of the kitchen.
“What was that for?” Clementine cried, pulling off her glasses.
Gabriella only snarled as she frantically tried to pile her hair back up.
“It was a lesson in kindness,” Johnny said, planting his hands on his hips. “Now get changed because you’re going for a run.”
Maman was not impressed by the mess in the kitchen, and she made Johnny clean up, despite his bandaged arm. Afterwards, he got roped in to keep score over William and Marty’s hoop shooting contest. Not that he minded lounging on the patio whilst sipping iced tea, but the sun was already hotter than Satan’s arsehole, and the humidity was through the roof.
“It’s seven to ten,” he said, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he tapped a pencil across the top of one of Gabriella’s old sketch pads. “Although I’m not convinced that last one counted, seeing as it bounced off Chop’s head.”
The pig in question had somehow escaped out of its pen and had made a beeline for Papa’s sunflowers. Johnny had just got comfortable again in their tatty old deckchair when he heard the doorbell ring.
Ah.
Shit.
He’d almost forgotten Kat was coming over, and Taylor was still out with the girls.
Johnny rose from the chair, trying to keep his expression even as William shot him a worried look. “I’ll be right back,” he said, scratching the back of his head with the corner of the notepad as he made his way into the house.
