Page 95 of With a Cherry On Top

Sadie, back from the restroom, looks up at me with wide and worried eyes, so I sink back into my chair like nothing happened. “Took you a while, sweetheart. All good?”

“Y-yeah, I was talking to Grandpa.” She walks closer, clinging to me and throwing a disgruntled look at her grandma. She’s not the only one who noticed, unfortunately, because as I meet my brother’s gaze, I see the silent question in his eyes.

“Oh, everyone is here already!” Darren says, interrupting the awkward silence as he steps into the kitchen. Sadie settles into her chair, her tiny arms carefully cradling one of the twins with a face of pure concentration as she supports the baby’s head just like Primrose shows her. Logan watches her like a hawk, but when she doesn’t drop his kid, he snaps his fingers.

“Aaron, help me grab the fold-up cribs from the car.”

I know a bullshit excuse when I hear one, especially since my brother could probably carry the whole car inside the house. But I follow him obediently into the evening cool air.

He heads for the trunk, lifting it open before giving me a look. “What did you do?”

“What?”

He crosses his arms, leaning against the bumper. “Mom flipping out like that? You must’ve done something.”

Of course he’d assumeIdid something.

“We had a bit of a spat,” I admit. “But it’s fine.”

“A spat, huh? Does it have anything to do with her visit to the hospital the other night?” When I hesitate, wondering how much he knows, he shrugs. “Is that why you told me not to come?”

“What? No, I?—”

“Take a second to reallythinkabout what you want to say right now, Aaron.”

I scoff, watching his jaw tighten. “What, you’re going to punch me like you did two years ago?” I point at the house.“Should I call my daughter so she can witness it this time? Your children? Our parents?”

“What are you hiding, Aaron?”

I look away, teeth grinding. I really need Mom to tell him about her diagnosis, because the last thing the two of us need ismorereasons not to trust each other. “Nothing, I told you. We just had a spat.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t push it. Instead, he studies me for a beat too long. “You had a spat with Amelie too?”

For a moment, I’m too stunned to speak—her name was the last thing I expected out of his mouth. “What?”

“She called.” He pulls the first crib from the trunk and sets it on the ground. “Said she hadn’t heard from you in a while. Apparently, you’ve been ignoring her texts.”

I focus on the crib, on anything but the weight of his judgmental stare. I haven’t answered because she’s the last person I want to lie to. And Iwillhave to lie about everything that’s happened with Charlotte. About what I’ve done with her every day this week.

“I’m not ignoring her,” I say flatly, grabbing the second crib. “I’ve just been busy.”

Logan watches me for a second longer before nodding. “Aaron, if you’re in some kind of trouble...”

“I’m not.” The response comes too fast, but I don’t care. “Everything is fine.”

He lets out a deep breath through his nose, the kind that usually means he’s barely holding on to his patience. “Really? ’Cause you’re acting cagey. And the last time you were acting cagey, you were fucking my girlfriend.”

My fingers tighten around the crib frame, knuckles aching. I’ve wanted to talk about this for years, but now that the moment is here—brought up with all the grace of a sledgehammer—I want to shove it back into the dark corner we’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist.

“Oh, so we’re going there?”

Logan’s expression hardens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’ve avoided having more than a surface-level conversation with me for years. I wasn’t sure we wereallowedto discuss Josie.”

He glares. “If you wanna talk, just talk.”

I tug out my phone. “You know what? I’ll text Amelie right now. Just to prove it’s nothing, okay? Get off my back.”