Page 93 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

I point at Chris, who is clearing fighting back tears.

“Just go home, Tyler. You had your chance to share our happiness, and since you don’t seem to want to do that, then we don’t need – or want – you here.”

Tucking his tongue into his cheek, Tyler looks back and forth between the two of us, his eyes wide but his jaw set.

He’s got a stubborn look in his eye. “Fine.”

He stands to leave and pulls the door open so hard he sends it flying into the opposite wall as he exits.

From the hallway he calls out, “I’m going to let Mom know what a mistake you are making here, Hannah!”

“She already knows!” I call back, closing the door and locking it behind him. I turn around and sigh.

“Well…”

“That went well!” Chris says jokingly, wiping tears from his eyes.

I walk over to him and get down on my knees so that I can look in his eyes. I wipe the tears away with my thumbs and kiss him deeply.

“He’ll come around. You know he will.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

I shrug, even as the question kills me.

“I know who you are. More importantly, you know who you are.” I tap his chest, and he grabs hold of my finger. He kisses softly, like the gentle brush of a butterfly wing.

“What if he’s right?”

“About which part?”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering if he means that Tyler might be right that he’s a player. I’m not sure I’d know how to react to that, so I reserve judgment.

“That I’m not father material. He’s right that I’ve never really had a healthy father figure. My mom remarried a guy when I was a little older, but by then I was pretty fully…” he trails off before adding, “cooked.”

“Cooked?” I laugh.

“I don’t know, I’m just thinking out loud,” he sighs, burrowing his face into his hands again.

I peel his fingers away from his face.

“I don’t think there’s only one way to be a good dad, Chris,” I whisper. “You didn’t have someone else showing you the ropes, so you’ll have to be your own version of a good dad. We’ll figure it out as we go along, just like everyone else does. You’ll be the father you would have wanted to have. You taught me that when you taught me how to make a pancake.”

Chris laughs. “Wow, the bar is low.”

“No,” I assure him, standing up and holding out my hand, “It’s very, very high.”

Chapter Forty Two

Christopher

We start the next day off with a lazy breakfast. Hannah sips on a smoothie and nibbles at a homemade sweet potato hash brown patty while surveying my work as I put together the second crib.

I glance over at her as she leans against the wall and watches my biceps as I screw in the wooden rods that surround the crib. I flex my arm for her, and the blood rises in her chest as she realizes I’ve caught her.

She looks up at me, and I wink at her. “You like what you see?”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, I was enjoying the art before it talked to me.”

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