Stitches

“He’s fully dressed,” I say, dismissively.

“Wasn’t ten minutes ago,” Griff remarks.

I bite back a smile and Gwen points toward the bathroom. “Please go wash your giant hands. All I can think about is them all over my sister.”

I nod my agreement. “And you need to meet Layla.”

Griff shakes his head but goes to wash his hands anyway. Gwen grabs my arm and widens her eyes at me. “I’m going to need explicit details about all this. I’m one part horrified and one part… I’m not sure. You get two hot guys? Where’s mine?”

“You’re married,” I remind her.

“So are you! To a dreamboat! And you get a bonus hunk. That’s not fair. Our husbands need to talk. Sebastian needs to sell Carl on the value of having a second man around the house—particularly one that looks like that. Does he live here? Do you guys just have a giant love nest?” Her eyes widen and she gasps in sudden realization. “Oh, my God. Do he and Sebastian…?”

I shake my head. “No. I mean, sometimes they take me at the same time, but they don’t do anything to one another.”

“At the same time?” she echoes, like I’ve just given voice to a sacred, unspoken legend.

“We’ll talk later,” I assure her.

“How does that even work?”

“Really, really well,” I tell her.

Gwen and I migrate to the kitchen. I wash my hands at the sink to set my germophobe sister’s mind at ease, then I set about making everyone some tea. I’m not sure tea is an adequate beverage to go alongside today’s news, but I need to do something to busy myself.

While the water is boiling, I text Sebastian to let him know that while I tried to keep it quiet, Gwen knows about our arrangement. He tells me I need to swear her to secrecy, at least until Griff’s divorce goes through. Gwen doesn’t run in the same circles, so it shouldn’t be an issue. She and her husband are comfortably lower middle class, so they don’t even know most of our snobbier friends.

“Listen, I didn’t tell you about Griff because we’re not really advertising it at this point. Griff is going through a divorce and his ex is being difficult. If she catches wind of all this, she’ll try to use it to hurt him, so you can’t say anything to anyone.”

Her eyes go wide again. “He’s married? What kind of cul-de-sac cliché are you living in here, Moira?”

I shake my head. “It’s not like that. She cheated on him, he left her. They were separated before any of this started. But they had a prenup, which means she’s not getting anything from the divorce. Instead of admitting defeat, she’s dragging it out.”

“She sounds like a real prize,” Gwen remarks. “So, you’re his rebound? Would it be weird if I set him up with my friend after you’re done with him? She just went through a drawn-out divorce herself, and she’s finally ready to start dating again. She’s got a cute kid. Does Griffin like kids?”

I turn back to frown at her. “He’s not up for grabs. Why do people keep trying to auction him off like a coveted piece at an estate sale? Jesus.”

“Because he’s hot?” she suggests.

Of course that’s when Griff walks back in. “Thanks,” he remarks, dryly.

“Do you like kids?” Gwen asks, turning to look at him.

Since he clearly thinks she’s referring to hers, he steps closer and looks down at Layla. “Sure, I do. Hey, little lady.”

Layla smiles up at him. He starts to reach a finger out to her tiny hand, but he stops and looks to Gwen for approval. She grabs his hand, dramatically inspects it, then reaches into her purse for a bottle of hand sanitizer.

“Really?” he asks.

“Just to be safe,” she states.

“I’m not diseased,” I tell her, moving closer so I can smile at baby Layla. “Hello, beautiful.”

Layla glances at me, but then she looks back up at Griff. He’s properly sanitized now, so it’s okay when Layla wraps her tiny hand around his finger and tugs it close. I’m hit with a brick wall of maternal warmth and I can’t help drawing closer to him, leaning my head on his big, strong arm.

“Still feeling that baby fever?” he asks, lightly.

“Oh yeah,” I tell him, nodding vehemently. “Reaching brain-boiling temperatures over here.”