Luke whispers it, and Banks laughs—a real one, surprised out of him—and Luke laughs too, a wet, delighted laugh, and just like that, the crisis is over. I’m standing here holding Lily, watching my fiancé talk a toddler off a ledge by getting him to rat out his father’s profanity, and I don’t have words for what’s moving through me right now.
I just know I want to remember it.
Banks
I don’t know why I’m good at this.
I have no younger siblings, I never babysat, and I have no normal pipeline through which a person learns what to do with a crying toddler. But Luke’s face when that door clicked shut—watching it and knowing he couldn’t follow—I recognized it before I even thought about it. I was sitting on the floor next to him before I’d made a decision to move.
I know what it is to watch a door close and not know what comes after. It’s hard. And scary. Terrifying, actually.
The difference is Archer always comes back. Luke just doesn’t have enough history yet to trust that.
He’s fine now. He’s sitting between my knees, eating Goldfish out of the bag, telling me about a cartoon dinosaur with the urgency of someone delivering breaking news. “And then the big one—not the little one, thebigone—he goesraahhand everyone runs.” His eyes go wide. “It’s really scary.”
“That’s terrifying,” I say.
He nods, very serious. “Yeah.”
Lily abandoned Winnie about twenty minutes ago and has since installed herself in my lap next to her brother, claimed the territory, and started reorganizing the Goldfish bag to her satisfaction. Winnie is on the couch with her legs tucked under her,watching us, and I can feel her eyes even when I’m not looking at her.
“You’re really good with them,” she says.
“I just sat down.”
“Banks.”
“I bribed him with his dad’s dignity. It’s not a transferable skill.”
She laughs, and Luke looks up at the sound of it, then looks at me with an expression I can only describe as reconsidering Winnie, which, yeah, fair. She grows on you. I know firsthand. I didn’t even want a girlfriend; now I have a fiancé.
Winnie
Two hours turn into two and a half, and by the end of it, Lily has decided I’m acceptable and is methodically showing me every item in the diaper bag like she’s conducting a tour, while Luke has fallen asleep on Banks’s chest with the elephant tucked under his chin and one fist curled in Banks’s shirt.
Banks hasn’t moved in forty minutes. He’s got one hand spread across Luke’s small back, and he’s watching something on his phone with the volume off, completely still. I keep looking over and having to look away because it’s too much—this image of this giant man sitting absolutely motionless so he doesn’t wake a sleeping toddler who grabbed onto him and decided to stay.
When Archer texts that he’s ten minutes out, I replyno rush, they’re greatand mean it entirelythis time.
He knocks quietly when he arrives, and Banks opens the door. Luke stirs, sees his dad, and reaches for him immediately with both arms, elephant and all. Archer takes him and pulls him in close, exhaling long and slow, and I watch the sweetest little reunion.
“Thank you,” he says, over Luke’s head.
He gets Lily, grabs the bag, and gets himself organized. He’s almost out the door when his phone buzzes. He glances at it, and his jaw tightens before he gets it back under control and slides the phone into his pocket.
Banks sees it. I see Banks see it.
“Arch,” Banks says.
“I’m good.” He adjusts Lily on his hip and gives Banks the nod—the one that meansI hear you and I’m not doing this right now.“See you at practice.”
And then he’s gone and Banks closes the door, and the house goes quiet.
There are Goldfish crackers on the coffee table, a small indentation in the couch cushion where Banks sat for forty minutes without moving, and Goldfish crackers ground into my area rug that I’m choosing not to think about right now.
“He’s not okay,” I say.
“No.” Banks starts collecting crackers off the table. “He’s not.”
