Thanks to Joanna.

Funny, how several years ago he’d have bet this would be his life now—two kids, the happy home in the city. He was drunk on love with Joanna then. The two of them spent late nights tangled up together in their Murray Hill apartment, drinking wine, playing slow, sexy music and coming together again and again. She’d even sculpted his hands once. She’d made a goddamn sculpture of them as a wedding gift to him. “The only hands I ever want touching me,” she’d said, and it was so heady, those words falling from her red pouty lips that poured forth promises of being together forever. They swore they’d be wrapped up in each other ’til the end of time.

Their marriage had lasted two intense, and seemingly beautiful, years. Then he was divorced at age twenty-eight.

Love was a drug; it played voodoo tricks on your brain, and the chemicals bathed you in lies as you fell, tempting you to believe in crazy notions like happily-ever-afters, and houses, and families.

He clenched his fists, shoving the memories away. He was happy, quite happy, thank you very much, in life post-Joanna. There was no need to linger on the past. He’d learned his lesson. He was glad though that his sister was happy.

They talked more as they walked. The little brown and tan creature sniffed every stoop, every bush, every small tree on the handful of blocks between Kat’s home and Fifth Avenue where they caught up with Bryan, who’d gone for a jog in the park with the kids.

He was running down the block, pushing a double stroller.

Nate clapped his friend on the back when he pulled up next to them, breathing hard. “Look at you. Dog, two kids, and the double wide. Such the family man now. I’d give you a hard time if you were married to anyone but my sister,” Nate said, and Bryan rolled his eyes.

“Thanks man. I appreciate the un-compliment.”

“Hey,” Kat said softly to Bryan, then pecked him on the cheek before she bent down to coo at her daughters. Nate joined in, because his nieces, Chloe and Cara, were pretty much the cutest babies in the whole world.

“Why don’t you boys take Indiana Jones for a walk and I’ll get the girls fed,” Kat said, switching places. Bryan handed off the stroller, and she gave him the leash then turned around. “Bye, Nate. Don’t forget, if you get those tickets for the Yankees game, I want in. I’ll get a sitter.”

He saluted her his yes, since he’d been in touch with his contact who’d always snagged him box seats at the game. “Consider it done.”

“Um, excuse me,” Bryan said, holding up a hand. “I’d like to claim one of those tickets too.”

“We’ll see, buddy,” Nate said.

Kat shrugged playfully at her husband. “What can I say, Bryan? He likes me better than you.” She blew kisses in the air and walked off.