“She called him,” Dom says from behind me. “We were on our way home from having lunch with Stacey and Ben.”

“Shit,” I mutter, stepping aside to let him in.

He closes the door behind him. “Everything okay?”

I scrub my hand over my face. “She heard something she shouldn’t have. Otter and I were fighting, and it just—it shouldn’t have been said. We’re a little… stressed.”

“This happen a lot?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t play cop on me, Dominic Miller. You know it’s not like that.”

He shrugs but has the decency to look vaguely guilty. “Just have to ask.”

“No, it doesn’t happen a lot. It doesn’t happen at all. But I think we’ve been building to this for a while. It’s not—Jesus. Look. Otter was an asshole. I was an asshole. We’re about to have twins. We’re tired and cranky, and this got out of control.”

“No one touched anybody else?”

I roll my eyes. “Do you really think Otter would ever lay a hand on me?”

“No. Just want to make sure everyone is okay.”

“I appreciate that, Dom. I really do. But even if Otter was the type to hit anyone, you can sure as shit bet I’d scratch his fucking eyes out.”

Dom snorts. “Maybe I should ask if Otter’s okay.”

I glare at him. “Not funny.”

“Sorry.”

I look up toward the ceiling, the music still blaring. “What did she say?”

He shrugs. “Not a lot. Just that she wasn’t sure if she was welcome here anymore.”

“Goddammit,” I groan. “That’s not—I need to go up there.”

“Just give it a minute, okay? You know Tyson’s good with her. He’ll make it okay.”

“He’s probably mad at us too, huh?”

There’s a little smile on Dom’s face. “You know how he gets.”

“Do I ever,” I mutter. “I’m probably going to get chewed out.”

“Eh. Probably. Better you than me, I guess.”

“Rude.” I turn toward the kitchen, suddenly needing to do something with my hands.

“Where did Otter go?” Dom asks, trailing after me.

The dishwasher is still open, partially unloaded. I start grabbing plates and stacking them on the counter. “Don’t know. And right now, I don’t care.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Not trying to be.”

“You know, I think I liked it better when you didn’t talk as much.” I wince as soon as the words come out. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

“That’s good,” he says easily. “Because if you did, you sounded like a jerk.”

“And we all know I’m not a jerk at all.”

“Mostly. You are going to break those plates, slamming them on the counter like that.”

“It’s fine. Besides, isn’t breaking dishes supposed to be cathartic? It always is in the movies.”