Page 208 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“Come here,” she whispers.
We move closer. Ethan sits on the edge of the bed. Asher stands behind him.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For what?” Ethan asks.
“For staying,” she says. “For fighting. For giving me them.” She gestures to the babies.
“Thank you,” Ethan says, kissing her hand. “For finding us. For putting us back together.”
“The Mosaic,” she smiles sleepily.
“Hey, guys?” I say.
“Yeah?” Ethan and Asher answer in unison.
“I think this is my favorite update yet,” I say.
Tessa laughs. Ethan smiles. Asher nods.
“Version 2.0,” Asher agrees. “Launch successful.”
“Go to sleep, Owen,” Ethan says, but there’s no bite in it.
I lean down and kiss Tessa’s forehead.
“Sweet dreams, Strategist.”
She closes her eyes, a smile lingering on her lips.
I step away from the bed, crack my neck, and drop onto the floor next to Asher to help him decipher the breast pump manual before the twins wake up hungry.
TESSA
Two Years Later
“Nova, put the cat down. The cat doesn’t want to be a parachute.”
My voice echoes through the high ceilings of the Westlake living room, but the two-year-old standing on the back of the sofa ignores me completely. She has Asher’s focus and my stubbornness, a combination that’s terrifying to behold.
“Flying,” Nova declares, holding the very patient, very fluffy ragdoll cat we adopted last year above her head.
“Atlas, help me,” I plead, looking at her twin brother.
Atlas is sitting on the floor, surrounded by wooden blocks. He looks up. He has Ethan’s dark hair and Owen’s mischievous grin. He considers the situation, looks at his sister, looks at the cat, and then knocks his tower over with a primal yell.
“Crash!” Atlas screams.
“Chaos,” a deep voice says from the doorway. “Complete system entropy.”
I turn to see Asher walking in. He’s wearing his work slacks but abandoned the dress shirt for a t-shirt currently covered in what looks like pureed carrots. He walks over to the sofa, scoops Nova and the cat into his arms with one efficient motion, and sets them safely on the floor.
“Parachute deployment failed,” Asher informs his daughter seriously. “Gravity is a constant, Nova. We respect physics in this house.”
“Physics!” Nova chirps, running off to tackle her brother.
“I’m outnumbered,” I say, leaning back against the kitchen island, clutching my lukewarm coffee. “They’re organizing, Ash. I saw them whispering by the toy chest earlier. I think they’re planning a coup.”
