Page 137 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

“She’s eight weeks old,” I say. “She doesn’t remember anything.”

“She remembered me,” he says again, not looking up.

Sarah puts her hand over her mouth and looks at me. I look back at her. We have a whole conversation without saying a word.

Liam appears at the bottom of the stairs with his hair doing something architectural and a pillow crease on one cheek. “Connor. Sarah. You’re early.”

“We’re on time,” Sarah says.

“I’m early,” Liam says, pointing at his own face. “Look at the evidence.”

“You look fine.”

“You’re a kind person.” He hugs her. “What did you bring?”

“Wine and my grandmother’s chicken.”

“Sarah.” He puts both hands on her shoulders. “You’re my favorite person. Don’t tell Riley.”

“I can hear you,” I say.

“She’s fine,” Liam says.

In the kitchen, Ethan is already examining the chicken dish with attention. Andrew sets the table without being asked, the way he does everything. Connor has drifted into the living room, still holding Olivia, still talking to her in that low murmur I’m not sure he knows he’s doing.

I go and stand beside him.

“She likes you,” I say.

He doesn’t look up. “She likes movement. I’m just useful.”

“She likes you.”

His thumb traces a small circle on her hand—that reflex babies have of grabbing on tight. She’s got his finger.

“She’s got your eyes,” he says.

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

“It’s true.” He glances at me sideways. “That’s either very good or a warning sign, I haven’t decided.”

“Liam says both.”

“For once,” Connor says, “Liam might be right.” A beat. “Don’t tell him.”

“Too late,” Liam calls from the kitchen.

Connor closes his eyes briefly. “He has the hearing of a large, annoying bat.”

“I heard that too,” Liam says.

I lean into Connor. He shifts his arm to make room without breaking his hold on the baby. Old reflex. He’s always known how I fit into his side.

“I’m glad you come,” I say.

He doesn’t answer right away. He watches the baby’s face, that ancient-and-new expression she makes when she’s deciding whether to sleep or complain.

“Sarah makes me,” he says.