Epilogue
REMY
“He’s getting too needy, you know.” Ariel stops painting, sits back, and studies her artwork.
We’re decorating the twins’ nursery before they arrive in a month’s time.
Ariel has painted a sunrise mural on one wall and is currently adding a tiger to the backdrop of jungle foliage on another.
I always knew she was creative. But I didn’t realize that she was a closet mural genius until she painted a Benson Boone concert in our spare room, now conveniently known as Ariel’s room, with the singer performing a backflip over a piano on one wall.
She’s talking about Tristan.
“Needy how?”
She wrinkles her nose. “He wants to see me like every night. Now that I have our dorm room all to myself, he expects me to sneak him into the residence halls and then sulks when I tell him I want to read a book. In peace. Without him pawing me for affection.”
She chooses the tiniest paintbrush on earth from a wrap on the floor and dips it into a miniature pot of gold paint.
“He likes you.” I should be painting. Ariel trusted me with the baseboards. Simple white. Impossible to go wrong, she said; and my overalls are already polka-dotted and crusty. “He wants to spend time with you.”
“I can’t do it, Remy. I like my own space. Which is why I told him that I’m moving in here until after the twins are born.”
“You didn’t!” I gasp dramatically.
I seem to over-dramatize everything these days. I crush the corner of a page in a book I’m reading, and cry. I burn a slice of toast, and cry. It rains, and I cry. I’m a walking advertisement for overacting.
“I most certainly did, and I feel no shame.”
“What if he comes here looking for you?”
“Then you set the big boys on him and tell him to expect a horse’s head in his bed the next morning.” She chuckles to herself. “Seriously though.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t you ever want your own space?”
I think about the routine the guys and I have settled into since moving into the house on Staten Island.
Cash and Bash both work long hours, the downside to owning a casino.
But they alternate evenings, running both the Titan and the Rinse collectively, so that one of them is here with me. It works.
I blush when I think about the evening before. Bash brought home Chinese takeout, and we ate noodles on the back porch, watching the sunset. Back inside, he wiped my chin with his thumb, and I couldn’t resist taking his hand and sticking it inside my pants.
It’s a pregnancy thing. One that no one ever talks about on chat shows, probably because it would have to be X-rated and aired after the prime time schedule.
They only have to look at me, and I’m wet.
Scrap the overacting. It’s nothing compared to the permanent state of arousal that seems to have taken over my life.
Just thinking about it now, my sex is literally tingling. So, no, strangely, having my own space hasn’t even crossed my mind. Besides, I can’t imagine my life without Cash and Bash, even if we are still learning to navigate this relationship.
“No,” I say truthfully. “I like having them around.”
Ariel gives me the side-eye. “Wait until you’ve got two screaming babies and your men are making life more difficult. My mom always said life was easier when she was on her own.”
I smile. “It won’t be like that. They’re good with babies. They have two nephews and a niece.” I’m defending them even though I know Ariel is messing around. At least, I think she is.
“We’ll see.” Ariel adds teensy dots of gold paint to the tiger’s eyes on the mural. “I’ll absolutely say I told you so when you’ve sweated over the breast pump for hours and Cash spills the milk before you can get it in the baby’s mouth.”
“Were you wronged by your baby-daddy in a previous life?”
I stretch my legs out in front of me and rub the side of my belly.
It feels tight. And solid. Like the skin has been stretched to its limit.
Which it probably has. If my babies grow much bigger, I’ll explode like that movie scene where the alien bursts out of John Hurt’s stomach, and we’ll have two babies clinging to the ceiling.
The mental image makes me squirm. Vivid imagination. Another side effect of pregnancy hormones.
“Must’ve been.” Ariel wrinkles her nose. “And Tristan is here to prove me wrong in this life.”
A twinge catches me by surprise. My belly hardens, gradually, and I breathe through the practice contraction the way I learned at prenatal classes.
“Rem?” Ariel’s eyes are filled with concern. “Please tell me you’re not in labor.”
“No.” I rub my belly where the babies both seem to have shifted to one side and formed a mountain on top of me. Then the pain begins to fade as slowly as it started. “It’s nothing. There’s still a month to go anyway.”
The door opens then and Cash comes in carrying two sodas, his eyes skimming the mural. “This is amazing, Ariel.”
I try to stand up. My legs are cramping from sitting on the floor for too long, and my belly is still feeling sore and stretched from the Braxton Hicks. Cash sets the sodas on top of the baby changing unit, slides his hands under my arms, and helps me onto my feet.
My nipples harden instantly, and I’m glad I’m wearing overalls so that Ariel doesn’t notice.
I haven’t even told her about my latest fantasy: walking into Cash or Bash’s office wearing a long coat with nothing underneath, shrugging it off, and riding them on their leather chairs while they’re still suited and booted.
“Are you alright?” Cash dips his head so that his eyes are level with mine. “Did you get a cramp in your legs again?”
My eyes fill with tears. It’s like living with a faulty switch, one moment I’m casually planning my next orgasm, and the next I’m bawling because they love me.
“Yes.” My voice is thick with emotion. “I should keep moving about, keep the blood flowing.”
Cash wraps his arms around me, and Ariel discreetly looks away as he whispers in my ear, “I know the perfect way to keep you moving.”
My knees tremble. My heart does that same funny fluttery thing that it does every time they walk into a room. And I feel the dampness seeping out from between my legs.
I’ll need to change my panties again.
“Okay, guys,” Ariel says. “I realize this is your home, but don’t forget the easily corrupted guest over here.” She raises a hand like she’s in school.
I laugh.
Cash winks at me and our lips brush before he leaves. “Shout if you need anything.”
“I have a question,” Ariel says when he’s gone. “How do you tell them apart?”
“It’s easy.”
Okay, they’re identical, and I didn’t tell them apart the first time I met them, but that was only because I didn’t know there were two of them.
Forewarned, I’d have looked for the obvious signs.
The different smiles. Bash’s slightly shorter hair and the freckle on his neck.
The way the stubble on Cash’s jawline is darker and thicker when he grows it out.
Now that Cash has trimmed his hair, I can see how difficult it is for others to have trouble distinguishing them from each other.
“Cash’s movements are louder,” I say, “like a boisterous child. While Bash is more controlled, always thinking three steps ahead.”
Ariel purses her lips. “That’s it? That’s all you have to go on?”
“There are other subtle differences.” I don’t add ‘in every department’.
My hyperactive libido is already kneeling in front of them naked. Cash is thicker, harder. Bash is slightly longer. But it’s what they do with it that has my panties getting wetter by the second.
“Do you ever get the wrong twin?” she asks.
“No.” Inexplicably, my cheeks grow warm as my belly starts to harden again. “Only the first time…” I’m breathing heavily, “…and to be fair… that wasn’t my fault. My coworker told me that Cash was Bash. I didn’t even know that he had a twin brother.”
“Or you’d have checked the name tag on his lapel before you fucked him.” Ariel laughs. “I believe you, Rem.” She watches me closely when she realizes that I’m panting through the practice contraction.
When the pain passes, I ask, “Which one do you think brought the sodas just then?”
She stares at the door like it might reveal the correct answer. “Bash?”
I chew my bottom lip to stop myself from blurting out that she was wrong. I don’t need to worry about telling my babies apart; the twenty-week ultrasound revealed that we’re having one of each. Fraternal twins, different genders. But Ariel has piqued my curiosity now.
“Have you seriously never been able to tell them apart?”
It blows my mind that all the times she has met them, she never knew which one she was talking to.
“No. But in my defense, I’ve never seen them naked.”
“Oh my God, Ariel.” I cover my face with both hands and have another drama queen moment. “I’m not even going there.”
She grins wickedly. “I can’t believe I’m the only person in the whole wide world who can’t tell them apart. Seriously. You, I get. Their mom too, and maybe even his siblings at a stretch, although I bet they get played at every opportunity.”
“They don’t.” I shake my head, trying to convince myself.
Just because I haven’t seen the guys trick their family, doesn’t mean they don’t do it. Would I even realize if they did? Ariel has got me wondering now.
“I bet your neighbors can’t tell them apart.” Ariel is on a roll now and there’s no stopping her.
I flinch. Squeeze my eyes shut. “Probably not.” It’s not the whole truth.