“Is the car seat installed?” she asks.

“Yeah. I did it before I drove over here.”

I was surprised to discover I still remembered exactly how to do it. Then again, I’d installed car seats in both Zoë’s car and mine, and then in her mom and dad’s cars, my mom’s car, and Amanda’s car.

My mom and Amanda have been asking constantly to see Justin.

Well, now they will.

It’s a relief of sorts, because it postpones my having to explain why I can’t bring Justin around anymore.

I need to explain, though.

I just can’t imagine saying the words.

She cheated on me, and it turns out Justin is Len’s.

I remind myself that if I don’t tell them myself, they’re going to find out some other way. My siblings are too connected to the rumor factory of this town for it to stay a secret for long, now that people are talking.

Justin hangs on my hair and bounces up and down, babbling. Drool runs down his face.

“Is he teething?’

She nods. “I put the baby Tylenol in the diaper bag.” She bends down, picks up the diaper bag, and puts it over my shoulder for me.

It feels all wrong, now. I don’t want her touching me.

“Thank you,” she says.

I can tell she means it.

“Yeah.”

I turn and go out.

I don’t say you’re welcome.

21

Rachel

Once again, Amanda and I stand on Gabe’s porch, hashing out dates for a get-together, this time the Real Romance party I’m doing for her, Hanna, Lucy, and their friends.

My dad is inside, cooking with a whole bevy of wickedly attractive Wilders. We usually do lechon asado when we’re with them, but we’ve had a lot of Cuban food lately so we decided to do homemade pizza. The amount of dough rising in Gabe’s kitchen is truly epic.

Connor and Amanda’s husband Heath are having some kind of hard core conversation about the latest Star Wars movie. I don’t pretend to understand, but they’ve always nerded out on sci-fi stuff and sometimes they get together and play video games.

My mom is sitting on the back deck with her foot up, as she should be.

The one conspicuous absence is Brody, and I haven’t wanted to ask anyone where he is. Even Connor. Especially Connor.

We settle on a date, and Amanda tucks her phone into her back pocket just as a truck pulls into the driveway—Brody’s. He hops down, then opens the backseat and leans in.

He emerges with his arms full of—

Baby.

That must be baby Justin.

Justin is peak baby right now—fat cheeks, drool, and babble. And the man holding him is peak man: broad shouldered, forearms flexing from the effort of containing his squirming cargo, and stubble-jawed.