Page 54 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Moodily stabbing the pause button, Arianna disappears to wash her hands. When she returns, Willow sets her up in the corner seat and tucks her chair in. She takes the next place, watching us both as we find our own chairs.

Killian naturally finds his way to the head of the table, deliberately ignoring the empty space at the centre of us all. None of us expected Micah to accept the dinner invite I delivered. He was on his way out of the front door at the time.

With everyone settled in, we begin to eat. Killian carves the chicken into neat portions and dishes it out while I pass around the dish of veggies and roast potatoes. There’s enough food for a small army, but I’m sure he’ll demolish it all.

“Thank you both.” Willow looks between us. “This is amazing.”

“Nothing beats a home cooked meal.” I steal the salt and pepper straight from Killian’s hands. “Anyone want gravy?”

Killian flips me off. “You go last, kid.”

“What does that mean?” Arianna lifts her middle finger, mirroring Killian’s move.

He looks horrified. “Ah, shit.”

“Language,” I chastise.

Laughing around a mouthful of beer, Willow nudges Arianna to encourage her to drop her middle finger and eat instead. Killian’s ears are still burning as he dives into his plate, stuffing down mouthfuls of food to escape his faux pas.

“We never had food like this at home,” Arianna says. “I want to stay here forever!”

Killian watches with pride as she drowns her roast potatoes in an unholy amount of gravy. Next time he restricts my consumption, I’m going to put on an Arianna pout for him. The little devil has clearly mastered the Killian code.

“That’s enough,” Willow scolds. “Eat your food.”

“But it’s so tasty!”

“That doesn’t mean you can eat it all.”

“Sorry, Mummy.”

We eat in companionable silence, broken by the sound of knives scraping and Arianna loudly chomping on a chicken leg. Willow mostly pushes the food around the plate, even when Killian glares at her in warning.

She disregards his scowling face completely. Fuck me, it’s the most hilarious to watch. He’s not used to being overruled in this house. As I open my mouth to crack a joke that will piss him off even more, there’s a creak from outside the front door.

Killian stands up so fast, his cutlery clatters loudly against his plate. Startled by the loud noise, Willow flinches and immediately grabs hold of her daughter.

“Mummy!” Arianna complains. “I’m eating.”

Then the front door cracks open, and everyone relaxes. A thick headful of messy hair held back by a pencil hangs over Micah’s paint-splattered face. He’s dressed in his usual painting clothes, a pair of ratty grey jeans and oversized t-shirt stained different colours.

“I’m late,” Micah says without looking up.

“No problem.” Killian quickly recovers, forcing himself to use a patient tone. “This is Willow and Arianna. They’re eating with us tonight.”

Freezing while washing his hands, Micah casts a nervous look over his shoulder. “We’ve met. Good to, erm… see you again.”

Christ on a cracker, he could win awards for awkwardness. My twin is a social pariah and certified textbook introvert. While he’s a hell of an artist, perhaps even more talented than he realises, he won’t win any medals for conversation.

“You’ve met?” Killian looks at them both.

Willow anxiously plays with her hair. “Briefly. I thought he was Zach, to be honest.”

“It happens a lot.” I wink at her, loving the way she blushes bright pink again just for me. “I’m the better looking twin, obviously, and I’m older than him.”

“By three and a half minutes,” Micah corrects.

“Still counts, Mi.”

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