Page 53 of Twins for the Silver Foxes

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Megan stood and threw her napkin down on the table. “I’m not hungry anymore.” Her heels clacked, cold and distant, as she retreated.

I kept my hands in my lap even though I ached to comfort Arthur. The silence around the table turned deafening.

“Enough of this shit.”

“Arthur.”

He held his head to the side, eyes locked on the doorway where Megan slipped away. “I’m not going after her again. I’ve tried that countless times. We both need to cool down.”

“What can I do to help?” I almost asked if he was okay, but I knew better. The man’s own daughter shredded him with her words. No one was okay. “How can I make this better?”

“I’ll be fine, Hannah.” His lips quirked around my name. Hair fell across his forehead when he lowered his chin and pushed his plate away. “I wish there was some way to mend this rift. Her mother…” He set his palms on his thighs and leaned back hard in the chair.

Scott combed a curl over my ear. “She’s like this every year. She’ll say she’s not coming, then pop up out of the blue. Megan is angry, so she arrives ready for war.”

“Her mother holds a lot of resentment toward me,” Arthur adds.

Ryland’s typical smile had disappeared hours ago. He rubbed his forehead with the heels of both hands. “Which is stupid as fuck since she’s the one who ended the marriage.”

“I’m certain she fills Megan’s ears with her bitterness. Megan has no outlet for her rage, which is why she spews it at me. I am the reason she holds such anger.” The heaviness of defeat clearly weighed on Arthur. “I fought for custody, but the judge ruled against me.”

Shock caused my body to jerk. He’d gone against Megan’s mother in a custody battle and lost? I wasn’t worried about custody since we’d talked it out, but what judge would rule against Arthur?

“How did that happen?” I had to know or it would eat me up inside.

“The judge was prejudiced against men. He thought that Arthur could have done more, or some shit like that.” Scott stabbed a forkful of steak and held it in the air. “Arthur never stood a chance.”

“That’s awful.” I ached to comfort him. One wrong move and he’d leave the room. Arthur had enough trauma in his history that he thought he deserved this pain. He’d pull away from comfort. So what the hell was I supposed to do?

He pushed back from the table. “I’m sorry for ruining the meal. I’ll be in my study.”

Ryland rested a hand on my shoulder, stopping me before I jumped up and followed him. “It’s okay, Hannah. You’re not responsible for Arthur’s emotional well-being. He can handle this. Let him throw some shit around and scream for a few minutes.”

“Does he really do that?”

Scott snorted a laugh. “No. He’ll sit still as a damned statue and blame himself for every bad thing that’s ever happened.”

“We’ve tried to get him to react.” Ryland’s fingertips danced along my spine. “Took him to a boxing gym to punch the heavy bag.”

“Even bought out one of those rooms where you can break everything with sledgehammers,” Scott’s sigh indicated that had been a disaster. “Man wouldn’t even walk through the door.”

Arthur was too buttoned up and controlled to unleash like that. They knew it, but they’d tried to help. My way was nobetter. Arthur was infuriatingly polite, and no amount of poking, prodding, or hugging was going to break him.

Deena walked in leading Liddy, and the conversation shifted to happier topics. We spent the next several hours planning Christmas gifts, wrapping the few things I’d found for my school kids, and listening to Christmas music through the house’s surround sound.

By the time I put Liddy to bed that night and made my way to the kitchen for a late snack, I’d almost convinced myself that the problems Megan brought with her were all solvable. I pushed open the door, a Christmas tune on my lips, and froze at the sight of Megan sitting on a stool at the island.

She turned at the sound of the door opening on creaky hinges, her red hair framing her face and spilling down her shoulders. She’d been all businesslike at dinner in a black dress and heels, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. This version of Megan wore pink pajama bottoms and an old band t-shirt with a hole near the hem. In other words, my kind of girl. I gripped the door, my hesitation obvious. “Sorry. Do you want me to leave?” The gnawing hunger prompted a niggle of worry. I had to grab food, even if it was just the peanut butter crackers I’d stowed away in the pantry.

“It’s fine.” Megan turned, giving me her back.

Relief made my steps quick and light as I padded closer. “Want some tea?” I filled the kettle and grabbed the tin from the pantry, along with two packs of crackers. I waved both at Megan.

She watched me with the kind of cautiousness I’d seen in wild animals on TV.

“Sure. Why not.”

Well, that was easy. I fixed us both a cup and sat down across from her, tearing open a package of crackers and biting one in half while the tea cooled. I didn’t typically enjoy silence,but a quiet Megan trumped angry Megan. She stacked her fisted hands one on top of the other and rested her chin on top.

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