Eddie
I don’t know what I expected to see when I walked up to Finley’s Connecticut home, but the lived-in, warm, and slightly cluttered ranch home in front of me is beyond anything I could have conjured. My curiosity had spiked even more on the train ride here after I noticed Finley starting to look nervous.
A man with Finley’s blond hair rolls toward us across the driveway in a wheelchair. Finley watches me watching him, maybe to see if I have a reaction to him being in a wheelchair, but I’m too worried about other things. I slow my walk, not sure what he’ll say about me being here with his daughter. I brace myself for a glare or a pointed look, but his smile is warm and nonthreatening.
Finley leans down to hug him, and then when she straightens up again, she turns to me. “Dad, Eddie…Eddie, my dad.”
I stick a hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Belton.”
He looks me over, one brow lifted, before reaching out to shake my hand. “Call me Sam.” Then he turns to Finley. “I see you took my advice. Where did you find this one?”
Finley blushes. “Friends, Dad. We’re friends.”
She shoots me a look like please don’t mention that night at the party. Seriously? I don’t have a death wish. He might be in a wheelchair, but his upper body is built. He could definitely fire a shotgun or swing a bat just fine.
“Eddie’s with One Model Management and lives in my building. But his apartment is a bit hectic this weekend. He needed a place to stay.”
I cough back a laugh. Hectic is one way to put it. I clear my throat. “Hope that’s okay, sir?”
Finley’s dad rolls his eyes. “Jesus. Mr. Belton is bad enough. Definitely don’t call me sir. Ever.”
“Sorry, sir—” I stop and shake my head. Finley and her dad both laugh. “Sorry.”
I trail behind Sam and his wheelchair when he heads inside. The second the door opens, two towheaded, identical little boys race out.
Finley scoops up the first one and kisses his cheek. The kid wrinkles his nose and swipes at his cheek. “I swear you guys get bigger every time I see you.”
She sets the kid down, and we all head into the foyer. Finley introduces me to Connor and Braden, which is a bit pointless, because I’ll never be able to tell them apart. I make a mental note of Braden’s red shirt today compared to his brother’s white T-shirt. Finley carries Connor inside, his little arms tight around her neck. I shift from one foot to the other, slightly uncomfortable. I don’t have a single memory of my sister Ruby ever hugging me. Or my parents, for that matter.
Braden tugs Finley into what looks like a family room, or it might be their living room. He’s talking her ear off, going a mile a minute, but I drown out the words, my gaze sweeping the room. The walls are covered with family photos, not the stiff portrait studio type that we have in a couple places at my home, but more like candid shots of family vacations and what might be the backyard pool, or pictures with Finley and her brothers in pajamas around a Christmas tree. Another wall is covered with artwork, the kind made out of construction paper with blobs of paint that resemble handprints.
Large foam puzzle pieces connect together on the floor to form a mat in the corner of the room where bins of toys and LEGOs sit around it. A chalkboard hangs at eye level for the boys with each of their names written on it, plus “Fin” and “Dad.” Tallied numbers are beside each of the boys’ names.
I spin slowly in a circle, the voices around me melting into the background as I take in the room. I can’t imagine having toys and construction paper in any of the rooms in my home. One of my favorite nannies, when I was around Connor and Braden’s age, kept toys in plastic containers under her bed for me and would pull them out and let me play on the kitchen floor while she made dinner. Until Ruby told my mom, and I got a new nanny a week later.
The crushing fear and anxiety of needing to make a new home comes down on me again, and for a few seconds, I can’t breathe.
A tiny hand closes in mine, and I jolt back to life. Braden, the red shirt twin, tugs at my hand. “Wanna help with the Star Wars ship?”
I can feel Sam watching from my right side. Did I look weird standing here staring at the walls just now? I look down at Braden again. “Uh…sure.”
I sit on the red, yellow, and blue foam puzzle-piece floor with both boys. Braden does all the talking, while Connor remains silent. From the chatterbox twin, I learn that Grandma gave them the Star Wars LEGO set for their birthday and that Grandma lives in the house next door. Also that the boys’ real birthday was two days ago.
“Fin sent us a giant box of coloring books and Hot Wheels,” Braden says, using his arms to model the size of the large box.
Despite all the information sharing, I’m still sitting on a couple big questions regarding this family. But I shove those aside for now. Slowly, I slide a hand toward the LEGO pile in front of me. I haven’t spent any time around little kids, and I’m quickly realizing how alien they seem to me.
“A big box of Hot Wheels, huh?” I say to Connor, trying to get him involved in the talking.
Connor nods, his head down and gaze focused on the LEGOs.
“He doesn’t talk lots,” Braden tells me. “Cameron calls him deaf all the time, but deaf means you don’t listen—”
“Hear,” Finley and her dad both say together. Sam adds, “Deaf means you can’t hear.”
“Right. That’s what I said. Hear.” Braden dumps a box of LEGOs onto the foam floor, mixing them with the new Star Wars set. “Cameron says Connor is deaf, but he’s not.”
Connor shakes his head, agreeing with his brother.
“And Miss Leonard made Cameron sit out recess today and yesterday ’cause of it.”
“Sounds like Cameron is stupid.” I snap a few sections of the ship together and then look up when I feel two pairs of eyes on me. Both boys have sat up straighter, eyes wide, like I’ve suddenly grown another head.
Braden finally turns around and picks up a piece of chalk from the board. “How do you spell Eddie?”
I spell it slowly for him while he prints my name on the board, the d’s facing the wrong direction. Then beside my name, he adds a tally mark.
“Oh…I got a point?” I don’t know what great thing I did to score on their chalkboard, but whatever, I’ll take it. “Thanks.”
Behind me, Finley laughs. “That’s the bad word board. Whoever has the most points at the end of the day helps with the dishes or has to clean the bathroom.”
I scan my memory of the last couple minutes, digging for any swearwords that may have slipped, but come up empty. Finley leans down, her breath hitting my neck, causing goose bumps to form, then she whispers in my ear, “Stupid.”
Stupid? That’s a bad word? “That’s a bad word?”
Finley and her brothers all nod. I’m about to apologize when Sam interrupts, and he and Finley start making plans for dinner. After they disappear into the kitchen, I’m left with the alien kids and the LEGOs.
We work together building the ship while Braden continues filling me in on the details of his life. The more minutes pass, the less awkward it feels. But then my phone vibrates in my pocket. The second I glance at the number, my stomach plummets. I excuse myself before stepping out onto the back patio.