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the above? Am I out of line?
    “You have a what?” their voices squeak together.
    “Really?” I point back and forth. “The twin thing. You know that drives me nuts. You’re not actually twins!”
    “Focus!” Luke snaps. “You have a brother?”
    “Technically, half brother. His name is Wilfred.”
    “Who the fuck names a child Wilfred?” Erin sneers. “That’s like name suicide. Like naming your child Alfred.”
    “That’s Batman’s butler.”
    “I rest my case,” she says matter-of-factly.
    Why do I even bother?
    “Did you meet him?” Luke calmly questions, placing his knitting materials down beside him, preparing for the fatherly speech.
    It’s clear as day that’s what’s coming by the way he’s leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, glasses a tad bit down on the bridge his nose, and the way his brow is scrunched tight. We call that the Daddy Dearest Look. Mostly Erin gets it when she brings home her one offs. I’ve gotten it on occasion when caught having ice cream for breakfast. Hey, it’s a perk of being an adult!
    “No.” I clarify quickly. “I didn’t wanna destroy his childhood the way the wicked wench obliterated mine. As far as he knows he’s got a normal life, with a normal mother, and there’s no need to ruin that. Besides, someone’s gonna tell him Santa’s not real in the next year and that’s gonna be traumatizing enough.”
    Luke bites back a chuckle. “You didn’t know Santa wasn’t real before that?”
    “You did?” Erin looks hurt.
    “Of course I did.” He shakes his head. “I was the one who helped tuck Dad into that fat suit every year, so that you would keep believing in him.”
    See. This is what I mean. Those are the kind of parents they had. Those are the kind of parents a child should have. Nothing against Aunt Caroline and Uncle Mike though.
    “And someday I will help tuck you into a big red suit, brother dear,” she coos on a giggle.
    “You better mean a fat suit because there is not an ounce of fat on me now and there won’t be then either,” he clarifies with a stern finger.
    “I’m aware.” The bitter snip is accompanied by the roll of her eyes. “And if you throw away all the non low-fat bread in the house one more time, keeping a low carb count is gonna be the least of your problems.”
    “Keep talking, Rachel Ray…”
    I cut Erin off before she can respond. “Anyway, I spent the night there because I was too shaken up to drive, and I basically told her to fuck off this morning. Went into work straight from there. Frank has me working on some side event for triple the pay.”
    “And your cell phone?” Erin drums her fingernails on the back of the couch. “Is that broken?”
    “I turned it off yesterday, and guess I never got back around to turning it on.”
    “Look, Maxx, there’s something you really need to know.” Luke begins leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday, Logan—”
    Is all that makes it out of his mouth before the sound of the front door opening breaks his conversation. Immediately, the three of us turn in time to see Logan with his arm draped around Liz, who is wearing an animal print mini dress and giggling flirtatiously.
    She looks like she skinned a baby leopard. I hope it tried to claw her eyes out before she took its hide.
    “Ankles AND hands?” The words are loud as if she’s not aware we are listening. “I don’t think I’ve ever had ‘em BOTH tied…” I watch her finger stroke his chest. “But you can be my first.”
    Whatever air that was in the room has been sucked out like a new and improved Hoover, because to say I can no longer breathe would be an over simplification.
    Logan glances our way and instantly stops at the edge of the stairs, eyes falling on me. “Maxx…”
    Well at least he can remember my fucking name.
    “Oh this is bad…” Erin grumbles behind me. “So very, very bad.”
    “See you finally made it home.”
    Is this really how he wants to play right now? He fucking leaves