Page 84 of Ward Willing
“Which CDs should we take back for Zoe?” I ask Bea, and Bea reaches out for a Blink-182 album.
“Good taste,” I tell her, and she gives me a toothy grin.
After I pick and choose my top 5 CDs—with Bea’s input—I slip out of my old bedroom with my arms full.
I nearly run into Miles, who looks a bit frantic.
“Fuck, there you are,” he says, reaching for Beatrix.
I look at my brother, quirking a brow at his costume—or lack thereof. It’s a dark grey suit, which looks eerily similar to his normal everyday suits.
I’d be a hypocrite to point it out, though, since I’m dressed as a professor.
“And here I was thinking you were worried about me,” I mutter as he places kisses all over Beatrix’s head, taking her from me since my hands are full.
Miles chuckles. “I was looking everywhere for this little angel,” he drawls. I roll my eyes. “Nice costume,” he adds, eyeing my tweed jacket. “Are you supposed to be Sherlock Holmes?”
I press my lips together briefly before answering. “I’m a professor.”
Miles narrows his eyes. “That’s cheating. But I like it,” he adds, smiling.
“And you are…?
“Chase,” he answers instantly.
“You… dressed as Chase for Halloween?” I deadpan. He’s probably fucking with me, but I’ll indulge him.
“Yes.”
“So if you’re Chase, is Chase dressing as you?”
“Of course not. He dresses as Wolverine every year.”
I laugh. “Right. How could I forget?”
“What were you doing up here anyway?” he asks, eyeing the CDs in my hand as we walk down the hallway.
“Just grabbing some old CDs from my bedroom,” I tell him. It’s only half a lie, but he doesn’t need to know they’re for Zoe. I’d noticed she tends to gravitate toward these bands with her playlists, and I’m sure she’ll enjoy seeing how we used to have to listen to music in the dark ages.
“Fuck. We really need to clean out all of the bedrooms.”
“If you’ve neglected a bedroom for twenty years without realizing it, you might have too many bedrooms.”
“Fuck you,” he grumbles.
Just then, Bea laughs—a tinkling sound that makes both of us go still. Miles looks like he’s in awe—it’s the exact same expression that passes over his face whenever Stella is nearby.
“You guys have the cutest kid,” I tell Miles, ignoring the emotion clawing up my throat.
He walks down the stairs, and I follow him. “You should have one. They’re kind of cool,” Miles replies.
“If I had a kid now, I’d be almost sixty when they graduated high school.”
“So?” Miles furrows his brows as he looks at me. “Age is just a number. Do you want kids?”
I look at Bea, and I already know the answer. The problem is, whenever I think about kids lately, all I can picture is Zoe as the mother.
“Of course I do.”
