Page 82 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

“You’re right. Thanks, Mom. I’m going to go back to bed now. Try to get some sleep, okay?”

As I walk back down the hall toward the guest room, she calls out after me, “Hannah, the deed is done. You’re already pregnant. You can stop pretending you and Chris sleep in separate rooms. Go back to his bed. You two need each other right now.”

I hear her laugh trailing after me as I pivot on my heel, sending my nightgown flailing around me, and walk back towards the room I came out of, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Chapter Thirty Six

Christopher

I wake up to the smell of coffee and pancakes and an empty bed and walk out into the kitchen to see Hannah and Piper cooking breakfast. Hannah leans over her mom’s shoulder, pointing and saying something, while her mother pours the batter into an oiled pan.

Lucy sits off to the side, calm and well-behaved but with a well trained eye on the stovetop, her nose wiggling fanatically.

I watch from the hallway for a moment, proud of all that Hannah’s learned and how natural she seems at teaching.

I hear her say, “Okay and see, now there’s bubbles, so you can go ahead and flip it.”

“Flip it?!” Piper balks, and Hannah laughs, moving a hair that’s covered in wet flour behind her mother’s ear.

“Oh, hey, sleepyhead,” Hannah calls out to me, her grin wide and gummy.

I have this overwhelming urge swell through me to grip her face in my hands and cover her face in kisses, but she’s stirring a bowl of batter, so I simply say, “Hi, there. You’ve got a feast going, I see.”

“Not exactly a feast, but there’s coffee! And we’re working on unburnt pancakes. We’ll have some any minute now, I know it.”

She looks over at her mom hunched over the stovetop, a spatula in her hand ready for the pancake as though it might hop out of the pan.

“I wanted to get McDonald’s for everyone,” Piper offers sheepishly.

“No, this is better! I believe in you. What can I do to help?” I scratch at my arm, looking around at the countertops speckled with batter and the egg shell remains.

“How about I clean up as you cook?”

“You know what? I actually would love for you to just…do your thing. Take a shower, go on a run. This might take us a while,” Hannah says, almost apologetically.

I nod as I approach the kitchen. “Sure, I can do that.” I pick up an abandoned bowl with remnants of batter past and rinse it out in the sink.

“Get! Out of here!” Hannah swats me with a batter-crusted spatula.

“Hey! That touches our food!”

“Well, there would be no arms to smack if you’d go on your run!”

She holds the spatula menacingly above her shoulder like a baseball bat, and I hold up my hands in surrender.

I get changed into my running shorts and a tank and clip Lucy onto a leash to bring her with me. As I walk out the door, I call out, “Please don’t burn my kitchen down.”

“You don’t have renter’s insurance?” Hannah calls back.

“I do, but remember that there’s priceless art in the bathroom,” I tell her, closing the door behind me.

My normal routine has been disrupted though. I have a ritual I’m used to, that tens of women have seen over the years.

Typically, I shower, knowing that I’ll be sweaty after my run. I make an egg white omelet, naked, and air dry while listening to my meditation podcasts. Then I get dressed and go for a run.

I shower again when I get back and I only drink coffee if Tyler happens to call.

This morning has thrown each aspect of my routine out the window, but Hannah seems so delighted to be here with me that decide to just roll with the flow.

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