Page 118 of The Twins

“Boy or girl?” Vegas asks.

“I want a girl,” I tell him.

“You want to send your favorite old dick to an early grave?” Vegas jokes.

“We could raise her with love, Remo. Give her everything that Grey missed out on.” I glance at the black screen of the television. “Hell, even Charles. What if she grows up bilingual? We should make sure our baby is involved with all of its cultures.”

My fingers turn cold. “Where will she study? Maybe she’ll enjoy traveling. She could become a free spirit.”

“Remo, the kid’s not even an avocado yet,” he reminds me.

“You mean the size of an avocado.”

“Smart-ass.” Vegas rolls his eyes. “Stay present. Isn’t that what you always say? We can worry about her education and her extracurricular activities when she reaches that age. Enjoy the moment. That’s all we have.”

I want you to be present for me, Remo. Can you promise me that?

* * *

Vegas,Grey, and Tara are in the lake.

Yesterday, Tara came over to the cabin unannounced. Her stress levels are at an all-time high, and it doesn’t help that her sex life is… Complicated.

The others respect her privacy, but I used to work for people that disregarded privacy altogether. This isn’t Grey, so Charles and Vegas don’t show as much effort with their stalking talents.

I’m sure that Charles hasn’t investigated Tara’s dating life.

If Vegas knew, he’d be cracking jokes left and right.

Tara’s gotten herself involved with a dangerous man, and I don’t know how she met him or why she continues to dig her own grave.

Quite frankly, if she’s messing around with cartels, I don’t want her near my family.

Not when Grey’s pregnant.

Two months, barely eight weeks, but still pregnant.

“Did somebody hack you again?” Charles asks, plopping onto the sunbed next to mine.

Charles carries two bottles of beer with one hand, the other holding a pack of cigarettes.

I don’t understand how he can smoke in this heat.

I shudder at his disgusting question. “No, of course not. Nobody hacked me.”

The patio is empty now, but earlier, we had a barbecue, and for the first time since I’ve known this cabin, we filled it up with family and fun. I needed that new memory.

“You certainly look like it,” Charles says, taking a sip from his beer while handing me mine.

I grab it. It’s nonalcoholic and my favorite brand. I gaze at it in amazement. “You remembered.”

“How could I not? You’re the only one in the family who despises drinking with a passion,” Charles says. “And you keep going on about this nonalcoholic brand that you love so much. It’s hard to forget something you’re passionate about.”

“Thank you.” I take a sip from my bottle, and I catch Charles staring at me. “Is something wrong?”

He insists, “What were you thinking about earlier?”

“Cartels. Danger. Our family’s safety.”

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