The Godparent Trap

“You do.” He sighed. “And honestly, since moving into a five-bedroom house with a white picket fence two weeks ago, you’ve gotten worse.”

“Have not!”

“Have.” He jabbed a finger at me. “Look, man, I know you’re mourning. We all are, but this wasn’t just losing a best friend and a sister—this was losing them and not even getting time to grieve because of the kids…”

“Yeah.” I didn’t meet his eyes. “It doesn’t help that Colby is a fucking mess!”

“The complete opposite of you, I’m aware, and so was your sister, who loved you and trusted you with her kids. So ask yourself, why would she punish you by making you coguardian? There has to be a reason she chose Colby.”

“Punishment?”

“Try again.”

I sighed.

“Can you really not think of one redeeming quality Colby has?”

“I woke up with Ben screaming 911, rolling on the floor, a little girl funding her college via a swear jar, and the need to use a fire extinguisher, so forgive me if I’m having a bit of an issue finding one thing she does right.”

He was quiet, and then, “Do the kids like her?”

“Shit, they love her, it’s like they have another kid around to play with!”

He winced. “I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘She’s really kind,’ but OK, I guess that works too.”

I ran both hands through my hair and tried to push this morning’s disaster to the back of my mind.

Nope. Wasn’t working.

The kids screaming. The fire.

How had Colby survived this long without a keeper?

“I think you’re being a little too hard on her.” Banks shrugged. “Especially if she’s home taking care of Viera while you’re here at work. That little girl has more energy than the Tasmanian Devil. Add that to doing pickup for the kids, taking care of the house—”

“Her version of taking care of the house is making sure the dishwasher is loaded, and then the clean dishes sit inside the dishwasher while the dirty dishes get piled in the sink until finally I can’t take the mess anymore and I do it myself,” I pointed out. “That’s her version of taking care of things.”

“So she’s like a bachelor.”

I snorted out a laugh. “She’s worse!”

“All I’m saying is trust your sister’s judgment and try, just try, to give Colby a chance. Do it for Monica. And for Brooks.”

And just like that, my anger was gone. I ducked my head and started shoving papers around on my desk so he wouldn’t see the trembling in my hands or the tears that had gathered in my eyes.

My sister. My best friend. They were gone.

Oblivious to my emotional shift, Banks shot to his feet. “Good talk,” he said. “I’m here, you know… when you need me.”

“Thanks, man.” A bit of the tension in my neck dissipated as he waved me off and walked out of my office.

I stared down at my phone, immediately feeling guilty for the things I’d said to Colby, the hurt in her eyes haunting me… just a little.

“I’m trying!” she’d said.

But I couldn’t possibly believe that she was trying her best.

Still, there was a reason my sister had adored her.