Page 119 of Fourplay & Fatalities

Asa snorted. “I have them occasionally.”

Felix rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. “I’m not even dignifying that with an answer. I’ll see you at noon.”

“See you then,” Asa said.

Felix was almost out of the car when he leaned back in and smacked a kiss on Asa’s lips. “Have a good meeting.”

Asa looked a little startled, but he nodded. “You—You, too.”

By the time Felix made it to the elevators, Asa’s car was gone, but Felix’s mood wasn’t. How could he be in a bad mood when his day had started with the people he loved and would end with it, too? He led a charmed life.

One that bitch Patrice could only dream of having.

And that was all that mattered.

Why was he so nervous? He’d talked it all out with Avi earlier. He’d felt confident that Felix and Asa would hear him out on baby number three. But now, as they all lounged in Asa and Zane’s bed, naked and sated, their skin still heated from their bath, the scent of vanilla still clinging in the air, all Zane’s confidence drained from him.

The room was warm and dim, the blankets tangled around their legs, everybody soft and loose in that boneless way they only ever seemed to get when it was just the four of them. There was no safer place in the world, which somehow made Zane’s nerves feel even more ridiculous.

The conversation could wait. It wasn’t like anyone’s biological clock was ticking down. He could bring it up tomorrow. Or next week. Or six months from now when he’d rehearsed every possible version of the conversation and prepared rebuttals for arguments nobody had actually made.

Maybe it wasn’t the baby. Maybe it was this secret he’d been carrying around with him for a couple of weeks now. He wanted to tell them but wasn’t sure how, wasn’t even sure there was really anything to tell. It was one of those things that had seemed trivial at first, but the longer he held it inside, the heavier it seemed. Now, he could practically feel the weight of it sitting beneath his ribs.

He didn’t know why he was hesitating to tell them. They were the most important people in his life. They’d all been together for so long now, yet Zane didn’t feel any older, any wiser. He felt stuck. His childhood self trapped in an adult body playing pretend every day. Playing house. Playing reporter, husband, father. Waiting for somebody to finally notice he had no idea what the fuck he was doing and take it all away from him.

Dr. Jones said it was a trauma response. Zane had laughed at that. Noah had once told him that therapy was basically learning that your whole personality was just one giant trauma response. He was right. It really was. Apparently, even being funny about his trauma was a trauma response, which felt a little excessive. He should be allowed at least one personality trait that belonged exclusively to him.

He didn’t mean to release the heavy sigh that escaped, but it was there before he could stop it, landing in the room like a question mark.

“What’s wrong, Zaney?” Felix asked.

Of course, Felix noticed. Felix always noticed. Zane could probably sigh three rooms away during a thunderstorm and Felix would materialize beside him asking what was wrong.

Zane wanted to tell them, but the words clotted in his throat. His fingers worried absently at the edge of the sheet instead, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

It shouldn’t be this hard. These were his people, his safety net, his home. They were his comfort and his familiarity. Nothing had changed. Not even the way they laid there in bed together. They were in their same configuration as always: Avi, Felix, Zane, Asa. Four bodies arranged by years of habit, fitting together without thought.

Zane and Felix liked to sleep cuddled into each other, both playing little spoon to the twins. Felix was warm against his chest now, one arm draped loosely across Zane’s waist while Asa’s hand rested heavily on his hip from the other side. The weight of them should have settled him. Usually, it did. Sometimes, the babies would snuggle between Zane and Felix, their soft baby scent and their footie pajamas making Zane feel both nostalgic and afraid.

They had maybe one good year left before the boys started saying footie pajamas were for babies and they were big boys. Before they didn’t want to sleep in a room filled with jungle animals and teddy bears but Super Mario or Paw Patrol.

While Zane often felt frozen in place, the boys were growing so fast. Sometimes, it seemed like he only had to blink for them to become slightly different people.

He missed when they were just learning to crawl and would pull themselves up on everything. He missed their coos and their babbles and the look of contentment on Felix’s face when he rocked them at night.

He even missed changing diapers, which was objectively insane. Nobody missed diapers. Yet, he did. He missed those sleepy, middle-of-the-night changes when the house was silent and one of the boys would blink solemnly up at him like Zane was the only person in the entire universe.

Maybe that was the part he missed most. Being needed in a way that was simple but vital.

“Nothing,” Zane said, unwilling to risk popping the bubble of happiness surrounding them.

He was certain they would all think he was upset or disturbed about their most recent playtime, but he just couldn’t get the words to come. His stomach tightened at the thought. The last thing he wanted was for any of them to mistake his silence for regret.

Well, maybe not Avi. He’d already talked to him at length. Just not about his secret.

The secret.

Zane felt movement beside Felix and knew, without even looking, that Avi had propped himself up. A second later, Avi solved Zane’s problem in the most Avi way imaginable.