Page 22 of We Are Just Us

"So," Rory said, leaning forward. "If it helps, the toddler thinks you're a legend."

"That does not help."

"She demanded we call and tell her mom. Twice. I summarized." A pause. "Selectively." He winked.

"God.” Kieran groaned, but was smiling. “Alright, give me one of those.”

Rory handed him a beer.

Kieran sat there for a full thirty seconds too long, bottle sweating in his hand, brain circling one obvious question and refusing to land on it.

Rory, meanwhile, had already made himself comfortable, one ankle crossed over the other, shoulders loose, like this was a normal Saturday night and not the aftermath of the most humiliating fence-related incident of Kieran's adult life.

The toddler laugh replayed in Kieran’s head.

He cleared his throat.

“So,” he said too quickly, hating the way it came out. Too casual. Too loaded.

Rory glanced up, patient. “Yeah?”

Kieran stared at the label on his beer. “The…toddler.”

Rory smiled faintly, like he could see where this was going and was choosing not to rescue him yet.

“Right,” Rory said. “Aubrey.”

Kieran nodded, then realized that wasn’t an answer. He swallowed. “She’s…?”

There it was. The pause. The moment where his voice betrayed him just enough.

“Your…?” he tried again, then gave up.

Rory’s eyebrows lifted, understanding landing gently on his face. Not defensive, but amused in a soft, human way.

“My niece,” Rory said. “Not my daughter.”

Kieran’s shoulders dropped so fast it was almost embarrassing.

“Oh,” he said. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, “Okay. Okay, good. I mean…not good, like…kids are good. Obviously.”

“You’re fine,” Rory’s laugh came out low and warm.

He took a sip of water and leaned back in the chair. “My sister’s a single mom. Aubrey’s three. They live up in San Clemente. My sister travels a lot in the area for work. She’s a nurse. Fills in for shifts when people call out.”

“That explains the energy,” Kieran said weakly.

“Oh, she’s feral,” Rory said fondly. “In a delightful way.”

“And her dad?” Kieran asked, gently now.

Rory’s mouth flattened for just a second. “Deadbeat ex-husband. Ran off when things got hard. Sends birthday cards occasionally. That’s about it.”

Kieran nodded. He didn’t say I’m sorry. It felt unnecessary.

“So I babysit when I can,” Rory added. “Which mostly means I get climbed on like furniture and lose toys over the fence.”

Kieran winced. “About that.”