Chapter 25 Cash #2
After we’ve eaten—pasta is Caleb’s specialty dish although I’m certain he uses it as camouflage to disguise the fact that it’s his only dish—we all relocate to the den.
I hang behind in the kitchen with Bash and Mom.
“Well?” Mom asks.
“We’re picking up the keys shortly.” I feel five years old again, getting my first bicycle without training wheels, eager to climb on and prove that I’m ready. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
“What’s not to love, Cash?”
I’ve been rocking on my heels all day, itching for the finale, scared to let anything slip and spoil the surprise.
“Mom?”
Maybe this is what has kept me fidgeting since we got here.
This conversation. The one I’ve been psyching myself up for in my head, rehearsing my lines like I’m preparing for opening night.
I haven’t even mentioned it to Bash, afraid that he might try to talk me out of it.
Too late to do anything about it now though.
“I know this probably isn’t the relationship you would’ve wanted for us.”
Beside me, Bash’s shoulders rise by an inch, solid and tense.
“And we’re still figuring things out. But this is what we all want.”
Mom glances at Bash who merely nods. He’ll pull me up on this once he’s had a chance to process it and understand my reasons, but for now, he’s content to remain silent and see how it pans out.
“You’re right about one thing,” Mom says. “This isn’t what I would’ve wanted for either of you.”
“But can you—”
“Let me finish, Cash. When you were my little boys, you were always so close that I knew if I spotted one of you, the other would be close by. If one cried, the other one handed him a tissue. If one cut their knee in the garden, the other brought him inside, climbed up onto the kitchen counter, and found the Band-Aids in the medical kit. Maybe I should’ve seen it coming.
Or maybe we’re all programmed to see what we’re told to see. ”
She holds my hand and takes Bash’s hand in the other.
“Are Remy and your babies okay?”
“Yes,” we both say in unison.
“Are you both happy?”
That’s an easy one. “Yes,” we synchronize again.
“Then that’s all I need to know.” She smiles. “I’m proud of you both. Now go and make that girl’s day.”
“Can I take the blindfold off yet?”
“Almost there.” I guide Remy forward a few more steps, face her in the right direction, and nod at Bash, standing on her left-hand side.
“Ready?”
“Cash, how do I know if I’m ready when I don’t have a clue what’s going on?”
“Fair point.” Excitement bubbles inside my chest.
This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done. We’ve ever done. Sure, I opened a hotel and casino. I’ve been indicted more times than I care to remember. I’ve rescued my sister and my brothers’ wives when they were kidnapped by our psychopathic enemies. But I always knew the outcome.
This is different.
I think that Remy is going to like this surprise, but a tiny part of me is still acutely aware that it could backfire.
Not because Remy doesn’t love us. Not because we’re not on the same page.
But simply because she’s proud, and a million times stronger than she realizes, and she hasn’t had enough time to adjust to our way of life.
Bash does the honors and unties the scarf wrapped around Remy’s head as a makeshift blindfold.
Then we both wait.
Remy blinks her surroundings back into focus.
Her eyes crinkle at the corners. Day is fading into night, the gray blemishing the sky from the horizon upwards.
The streetlamps have just come on, the glow still waking up and stretching itself into existence.
But there’s only one direction we want Remy to look.
“O-kay.” She turns to Bash first and then to me. “Where are we?”
“Home.” It sounds a lot more apologetic than I’d intended.
Remy shakes her head. “But I thought…” She glances all around. “We just left…”
“Our home,” I say, impatience winning.
“You, Cash, and me,” my brother adds.
“And the babies.”
“Goes without saying.”
We both study her profile from opposite sides, waiting for her to speak.
The house in front of us is colonial in style, clad in ivory-painted wood.
A white fence surrounds the garden on all sides, and lines the steps leading up to the porch.
There’s a little white gate at the front, a sycamore tree in a corner of the front yard, and tiny hearts carved out of the shutters.
Our family home is just about visible from the attic on a clear day.
“I don’t understand.” She sucks on her top lip. “When you say our home, you mean…?”
“My apartment isn’t big enough for twins,” I say.
“Cash, you literally have three guest rooms.” Remy rubs her eyes like it might make the conversation clearer.
“And my apartment…” Bash’s voice trails off.
“So, we bought this house.” I can’t read her expression when she turns back to look at the property. “It has five bedrooms.”
“And three bathrooms,” Bash adds, tapping into his inner realtor. “We could build a playhouse in the back yard. For the twins.”
“They could have a room each.” I hesitate, uncertain which way to sell it best. “Or they could share. There’s even a spare room for Ariel.”
“You bought this for us?” she whispers.
“It isn’t the biggest house on Staten Island.” I don’t know why I’m still talking, trying to fill the silence so that Remy doesn’t feel obliged to. “But it’s a decent area.”
“With good schools.”
For the longest time, Remy’s eyes flit between the two of us. Then her face literally glows with her smile.
“Guys, you had me at the spare room for Ariel.”