“No,” said Bill and Justin and Kelly simultaneously.
“That’s what Google’s for,” grumbled the other twin, poking his sibling.
Kris, juggling bags, found himself inexplicably on the verge of laughter. He escaped upstairs before anyone could ask follow-up questions about toad-in-the-hole, and discovered that he was grinning. It felt good.
Justin came in behind him, grinning too, a slim shape of black jacket and flame. “Sorry about that. They’re unholy demonspawn. Professional opinion.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to get questions about spotted d**k. I never—” I never knew you were so good with kids, he’d nearly said; but the image of Justin plus children flowed through his brain and left channels of yearning: a domesticity he’d never imagined. “I never had that,” he finished.
Which earned
