Holly
“Not going out for lunch today?” Bryn asks, lifting her eyebrows as she points to my sad, wrapped-up PB&J.
We never made it out to lunch earlier in the week. She had violent morning sickness and wanted nothing but saltine crackers. My mention of Big Bob’s Wings seemed to make her physically ill, so apparently she agrees with Hot Rod on that one.
On Tuesday, I spent my lunch break buying get-well stuff for Jane and Cole. I’d only planned on staying for a little while that night—long enough to pat them on their heads and force-feed them ginger ale—but I’d never seen Cole so vulnerable, and Jane had looked impossibly small lying in his bed.
I felt a weird need to take care of them, a compulsion almost—something I’d never experienced for anyone other than my siblings.
I’ve never been in a real relationship. I’ve never let a man enter my bubble. But I find myself wanting things to be different this time. It’s scary as fuck, but there it is.
I went over to check on them during my lunch break on Wednesday, only to find them fully recovered, watching a documentary about coding that I’d recommended to Jane that was probably boring the fuck out of Cole. He was sitting in the arm chair, idly spinning the little ABC wheel I’d made them. Both of them lit up when I walked through the door, and something seemed to unfurl inside me, like a morning glory that’s relieved as hell the sun’s finally come out.
It’s Thursday now, and while I’m tempted to look in on Cole again—Jane’s in school today—and bring over my newly acquired flippy nurse’s uniform costume, I’m not confident enough in my ability to avoid getting a stomach virus to swap spit with him.
Tomorrow? Sure. But I’ll give that virus a day of grace.
Besides, I have no news from Horacio. He checks in with me once a day, suggesting he’s either as afraid of me as Cole thinks or that he truly has no life—probably both—and although the Labelles have agreed to meet with him, he’s not due to see them until Tuesday afternoon. Meaning he will be sending me uninteresting check-in texts for several more days before I have anything remotely interesting to report.
There won’t be any Tech Time this afternoon because the stomach virus has been going around like wildfire, and three of the kids are out. Poor Mikey got hit with it hard too. He texted me saying the only bright spot is that Applejack works nights and has been texting with him all day.
She’s probably either a stripper or a doctor. There can be no middle ground.
“Your lunch?” Bryn prompts.
“Yeah,” I say. “But I can’t pretend I’m inspired by it. Want to go out to—”
“Don’t you dare,” she says, reaching out and putting a finger to my lips.
I grin at her. “I was going to say Salt and Bone. Let’s be fancy.”
She makes a face. “I haven’t been back there since…”
Since our father crashed our birthday dinner.
“Let’s reclaim it, shall we?”
She makes a face, shrugs, and says, “Sure. What the hell. I probably can’t eat anything but bread anyway, so you might as well get what you want.”
I rise to my feet and pat her on the back. “A ringing endorsement. I’ll drive. So Small Stuff has been tormenting you?”
Bryn went in for her first ultrasounds, but she and Rory still haven’t announced the sex of the baby—Bryn has assured me they’re not waiting until the birth, thank God, but I guess he wants to wait until his parents are around at Thanksgiving to spill the beans.
I argued it’s unjust for her to keep secrets from her twin sister, but she just gave me a wry look intended to remind me of the secret I kept from her.
Not that she’s in the dark about Cole now. She knows all about Saturday night, and I had to tell her about defiling Nana’s desk. I knew she’d have a special appreciation for it, given my grandmother has been giving her hell for years.
“You’re going to call the baby that after he or she is born, aren’t you?” she asks.
“Obviously. It’ll take my niece years to outstrip me in height.”
She gives me side-eye as we leave the office. “Could be a boy.”
“Nah. I give my odds 50–50.”
She snorts. “Generous of you.”
“You know you could just tell me. Rory would never know.”
