Page 94 of With a Cherry On Top

I watch him with a less-than-patient glare. “Kyle, Logan doesn’t want a party. I don’t want a party. It’s his wedding, so how about we figure out something he’d enjoy? Like a...silent retreat in the forest?”

“Boring. The both of you. The boring Coleman brothers.”

I ignore him, dropping onto a log. Bachelor party or not, I’m not going to find someone who’ll distract me from Charlotte. Hell, I don’t even want to be distracted. I want her—moreof her.

He settles on a different log, and for a while, we just sit there, the air smelling like pine and fresh-cut wood.

“So, another redhead, huh?” he says after a while. “Subconsciously trying to replace your ex-wife?”

“Jesus. I didn’t hold out auditions, Kyle.”

“I’m just saying it’s a recessive gene. Most people never get to date a redhead, and you’re two for two.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure, sure.” He leans back. “So about the strip club...”

CHAPTER 18

A Plate Too Full

The scent of roasted vegetables and garlic wafts through the house as Sadie and I step inside, the low hum of conversation trickling out from the kitchen. My mom’s voice—warm, familiar—mingles with Primrose’s gentle laughter, Logan’s voice, and the occasional fussy coo from the twins. It’s the first family dinner we’ve had since the twins were born six months ago, and it’d be almost peaceful, if it weren’t for the troubling pile of secrets and tension threatening to bury us all.

Sadie tugs at my hand, leading me into the kitchen where Mom stands at the counter, preparing a salad. She looks up when I enter, and only briefly smiles before dragging Sadie into a tight hug.

Should she even be standing up after she twisted her ankle?

Primrose, holding one of the babies, grins. “Oh, good, you’re here!”

Sadie darts toward the twins with a delighted squeal. “Can I hold them?”

“Are your hands clean?” Logan asks.

Sadie huffs but marches to the bathroom without complaint. After watching her go, Logan finally looks at me and nods a half-hearted greeting.

Conversation flows easily enough as I settle at the table, though my responses are stilted. I don’t know what to say to Mom that doesn’t circle back to the one thing we’re not talking about. I don’t know how to sit at this table knowing she’s making me lie to Logan. And I’m definitely out of ideas when it comes to getting him to open up.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I slide it out under the table, not unlocking it, just glancing at the screen. There’s a voice message from Charlotte, along with the preview banner of three separate texts.

Thinking about you tonight.

Don’t play this in front of Sadie.

Or anyone else you’re not okay sharing me with.

I stare at my lock screen a beat too long, fighting a growing smile, before shoving the phone back into my pocket. I can’twaitto listen.

Primrose launches into a story about the twins’ latest milestone, and Logan chimes in with a correction, and Mom asks questions. It’s all deceptively normal, until I see from the corner of my eye Mom’s hands shaking as she tries to twist a jar of olives open. She grits her teeth, twisting harder.

Without thinking, I push back my chair and stand. “Here, let me?—”

“Do you think I need help opening a jar, Aaron?” she asks, voice too loud, silencing the room as her head snaps up.

“I just—” I try, heat crawling up my neck.

“Idon’t,” she barks, slamming the jar onto the counter.

“Daddy?”