Page 59 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

He reaches for me and holds my jaw in his hands. He kisses me deeply.

“Pretend I didn’t just insult your independence, pretend my ex isn’t crazy, pretend your brother isn’t my best friend, pretend I’m not your client. Let’s pretend it all, okay? I just want to feel your little hand in my big hand and watch our dog walk in front of us. Can we do that, Hannah Banana?”

I smile at the nickname. It’s a new one from him, and it feels familiar, like he’s called me that all the time we’ve known each other.

“Fine.”

“Fine? I pour my heart out to you,begyou, and all I get is fine?” His blue eyes are shining, teasing.

I shrug. “Take it or leave it.”

Chapter Twenty Six

Christopher

Hannah lets me hold Lucy’s leash, and I feel giddy as I hold her hand in tandem, walking through the bustling streets of LA.

I suppress a grin that threatens to fly off my face if I let it go, looking down lovingly at Lucy’s snuffling nose, wiggling at a patch of weeds growing from a sidewalk crack, the wet sheen of her nose shining in the light.

Her body follows suit, wiggling with all the excitement of a human who just won the lottery, her tongue drooping down to the concrete as she sniffs.

I think I know how she feels.

“You’ve done a really good job with her, Hannah. She doesn’t pull at all,” I tell her proudly, squeezing her hand with mine as we walk.

“Aw, thank you. It was easy. She’s naturally a good girl already.”

Hannah leans into me, her skin comforting and warm against mine. I look over at her as she looks ahead, her eyelashes golden in the sun and her red hair shining.

“Oh, look, right up there!” I point at the farmers’ market excitedly and walk faster, pulling Hannah along with me.

“I have never seen a man so excited about vegetables,” she tells me, giggling, as she speeds up. Lucy breaks into a jog, her ears flying behind her.

“It’s not just vegetables.”

“Oh, fruit, too?” she teases, smiling widely.

“Yeah, and legumes. Just come on.”

We slow down as we near the entrance.

I gawk at the community of it all, the booths set up under a wide tarp, people weaving around each other to get to where they’re going in the narrow aisle, all the quiet conversations happening at once.

I look around and realize Hannah has broken away from me. She’s at a booth of jams, bent over at the waist and reading the labels.

“Your mother is quick,” I tell Lucy, who sits beside me calmly, her mouth opened in what appears to be a gentle smile across her furry face.

I gesture with a nod toward Hannah, and Lucy seems to understand, standing up to walk with me over to meet her.

“Found something already?”

Hannah whirls around to me, a grin to match her sparkling green eyes.

“Okay, I get it. This is fun. Look at all these jams. Now I may not be a bok choy expert, but jams I know. I’ve made plenty of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in my lifetime.”

“Which one are you thinking?” I ask, chuckling at the reminder of her limited cooking skills. I find it so touching that she instantly thought of her childhood PB&J when surrounded by all these options.

I’m suddenly flooded by the image of Hannah and me in the kitchen, making lunches for our children.

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