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“That’s it? That’s what I get?”
“That’s what you get.”
“Steph’s gonna text you. Fair warning. Her friend’s British, by the way, in case you missed the—”
“I didn’t miss it.”
“Her name’s—”
“Don’t.” It comes out faster and louder than I planned. Rosemary looks up from her bowl. I lower my voice. “We made a deal. Masks on, no names. She wanted it that way.”
Hogan is quiet for a second, which for him is a long time. “You’re serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re gonna keep a deal you made at a costume party with a girl you’re never gonna see again.”
“Yeah.” I drink my coffee. It’s too hot. I drink it anyway. “I am.”
“Unbelievable,” he says. “You know what? Respect. Weird, but respect. I gotta go throw up now, my guy. Happy birthday to me.”
He hangs up before I can tell him that’s not how birthdays work.
I go to the living room and stand in the large picture window, sipping on my coffee. It’s then I realize that I’m no different from my dad when he does this on weekend mornings. I feel like I should be contemplating whether I’m going to mow the lawn or clean the gutters. The only thing missing is my growing pot belly.
Before I can step away, my sister’s SUV pulls into the driveway. Charlie’s out of the car before my sister or Chuck can help her. I go to the door, open it, and hold the screen door open for my nephew.
“Uncle Dev,” he yells as he runs toward me with his shoes untied. He crashes into me as I crouch down. I groan when his knees collide with my ribs.
“Charlie, my man.” I hoist him onto my hip. I hate that I don’t see him all the time. I’m missing everything. “You get bigger every time I see you.”
“Mom says I grew an inch.”
“An inch? That’s it?” I set him down. “Go back and get more,” I tell him.
Charlie laughs and goes into the house.
My niece Blair is on my sister’s hip, with both fists wrapped around my sister’s hair. She sees me and her whole face lights up. This girl has zero stranger danger. Her little legs kick as she puts her fist full of my sister’s hair into her mouth.
My sister leans toward me, shoving her kid into my arms. I take Blair, who instantly grabs my ear.
“Hi, baby girl.” I move my head to get my ear out of her deadly grip. “Yeah, okay. That’s mine.”
“You look rough,” my sister says as she looks me up and down. I suppose as soon as they pulled into the driveway, I could’ve changed my shirt.
“Thanks.”
“No, you look—” She squints at me. My sister has our mom’s squint, the one that knows you’ve been up to no good, but they can’t pinpoint what. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She’s smiling now, which is worse. “Nothing at all.”
Chuck comes up the walk carrying one small leather bag, his golf shirt tucked into his perfectly creased pants. “Devon.”
“Charles.”
He looks at my chocolate-stained shirt.
