Page 25 of The Devil Gets His Due

He raises a brow at the song lyrics. “Big dick energy?” he repeats. “What an excellent role model you’ll make.”

I pick up a half-eaten Oreo and throw it in the trash. “Don’t let it make you feel bad about your shortcomings. I’m sure you have other qualities.”

His mouth lifts, just a hint, and so fucking smugly as ifthat’sthe one thing he doesn’t have to worry about. I think of how I woke feeling after those two nights with him, and a muscle tightens in my stomach.

Yeah, I suspect he has nothing to worry about.

He walks to the closet—now guest room—and groans when he opens the door. “Keeley, I thought you were going to clean this out.”

“Idid.” I point at the two trash bags in the corner. “It’s all right there.”

I got rid of so much stuff, but the room still resembles the backstage of a fashion show.

He goes to the first rack. “You’ve got to get rid of this shit.Moreof this shit. I mean, do you really see yourself wearing a leopard-print bodysuit in the near future?”

“If we ever learn how to time travel to the 70s, I plan to seduce Eric Clapton and Don Henley, and that’s the outfit I’ll wear.”

“I’m not sleeping in a room full of clothes you’ve kept because our speciesmight learn to time travel.”

I really hope our child does not inherit Graham’s relentless practicality. “What if he or she wants to wear it to school for dress-up day?”

“No child of mine, male or female, will be wearingthisfor dress-up day,” Graham replies. “Come on. There’s not even room for a bed in here, and youhavean actual closet. At least put this stuff in storage.”

“Fine.” I start to sort through the rest of the clothes, picking out the few things I’m likely to wear between now and the time the baby arrives. “What’s your favorite color, by the way?”

He raises a brow. “Why?”

“Jesus Christ, Graham. I didn’t ask for your social security number. I’m just trying to get to know you.” I pause, wondering if there’s any chance I can still pull off a cross-neck halter dress with an open midriff.

“Black. There. Did that open a whole new layer to me previously closed to you?”

“No. It just confirmed what I already thought was there. Dark, bleak, probably fatal. Mine’s red, not that you asked.”

“Loud, attention-seeking, unable to blend in with a crowd,” he says, grabbing one of the garbage bags. “Yeah, that lines up.”

He’s wearying me and he just arrived five minutes ago. I’m about to tell him as much when his older brother walks in.

I give Ben an uncertain smile, the kind that says,“yes, I know I fucked up, but please don’t hate me.”

“Welcome to the family,” he says, which is generous of him, under the circumstances. He knows both of us pretty well, so he must realize who’s really at fault for this whole mess. He turns to Graham, pushing a hand through his hair. “You didn’t answer my text about that, by the way. Have you told Mom yet?”

“Not yet,” Graham replies, narrowing his eyes at Ben, like he wants him to shut the fuck up. Clearly, it’s an issue.I’man issue, or this baby is an issue, or maybe both of us. I don’t want that to bother me, but it does.

“I thought she liked me,” I say to Graham.

He looks away. “She’ll be thrilled. It’s complicated.”

I was the source of friction between my parents, the source of friction between my father and his wife. And now, it appears, I’m creating problems in a third household as well. I guess I never did do things small.

“I’ll let you guys get to it, then,” I say quietly.

Ben and Graham spend the next few hours moving my precious clothes to a storage unit, and I wander my former closet—now Graham’s bedroom—while swallowing a lump in my throat. It feels like they’ve taken the best part of me, which probably says something unfortunate about the part that stayed behind.

Graham returns alone that afternoon. “My flight’s leaving soon, but I’m driving back later in the week. I plan to be here by Sunday afternoon.”

“I’ll have to make you a copy of the key.” I could hand him the one under the mat, but given how often I accidentally lock myself out, I know I’d regret it.

He nods, and the moment stretches out. It’s time for him to leave, and much like his arrival here Friday night, it feels like we should be more than we are, that we should at least hug. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ll see you Sunday, then.”

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