Page 94 of Rowdy & Kat

I adored how well Farley took care of Maria and my nieces. He was so present with them. Farley seemed like a more laidback version of Rowdy.

Farley and Maria’s house was built with a guest suite for his moms, who often visited and stayed for long stretches. They were crazy about the girls. Maria and I had bounced around from flaky family to flaky family in our youth. Now, we had been welcomed into two stable families.

With my second pregnancy, Rowdy got his wish for a daughter named Alicia. I chose Adriana for the second twin because the name reminded me of Mariana. We used Bebe and Lora as middle names.

The girls didn’t share their brothers’ blond hair and icy blue eyes. Instead, they inherited their dad’s brown hair and my green eyes. However, their little faces were very similar to their brothers’.

“They have their mama’s nose,” Bebe said when she first saw them at the hospital.

Though the pain of losing my mom couldn’t be erased by a great woman’s love, Bebe had managed to heal so many of my old wounds. Rowdy’s entire family acted like a tonic, soothing my trust issues with their consistent presence and affection.

With our stable lives filled with trustworthy people, Maria and I learned to spend time apart. Not just when we were home with our husbands and kids. We also went places with other people.

I took walks with Nova and Lula. Maria joined Zadie at a cooking class. Of course, Maria and I still saw each other every day and remained overly clingy. But I liked to believe our bond had become healthier.

Raising four kids under four could be overwhelming. If Maria and her girls were over, the house occasionally descended into complete madness.

No matter the chaos taking place, Rowdy would stroll into a room and find a solution. He calmed the drama, soothed the tears, fixed the boo-boos, and made everyone feel safe.

Despite Rowdy’s calm exterior, I knew he struggled like everyone else. That’s why I always ensured he had the space to catch his breath when life became too much.

At least once a week, we’d take the kids down the block to their grandparents’ house. Once Bebe and Pax distracted their four grandbabies, I’d climb on behind Rowdy, and we’d take a ride.

Though I’d never been a wild woman, I’d always had a thing for a certain wild man. Rowdy had been my dream guy, even when he was an obnoxious teenager tugging on my hair. Now, I knew the real man behind the sexy swagger was even better than I had dreamed.

ROWDY’S EPILOGUE

Marriage never scared me. I grew up with two people who were clearly in love. Any disagreements between Pax and Bebe were handled away from my sisters and me. My parents’ relationship inspired me to believe marriage was easy.

And for the most part, I was right. Kat and I worked well together. She was smart about things I didn’t get. I was tough about things that freaked her out. We brought out the best in each other and smoothed away our flaws.

I wasn’t surprised by how much Kat loved riding bitch on my motorcycles. Whenever life got stressful, we’d take off for a few hours and ride the country roads outside of Little Memphis. Sometimes, we’d stop somewhere and get a meal. Occasionally, we’d find a hotel and get naked for a few hours without four kids and three pets demanding our attention.

Ideally, I’d spend every minute with Kat. Even after years together, I couldn’t get enough of her. But I always knew I’d need to share her with Maria.

The twins continued their interest in Taekwondo, taking a weekly class together. When the kids got old enough, all six took up the martial art. Every month, Kat and Maria visited the farmers’ market with Bebe, Shay, Darby, and Keener. The twins also kept up with their art and crafts, decorating our houses with their creations.

Despite my club responsibilities and Kat’s hobbies, we always made sure to be home in the evenings. My parents taught me how important stability was when raising four kids.

Fatherhood was fun but tricky. While not all twins were best friends and partners in crime, my two sets shared that crazy bond.

That’s why, on the day of my boys’ thirteenth birthdays, I got on my knees and asked my parents to forgive me for all the hell I put them through in my youth. Now, in my early forties, I was fully aware of what a pain in the ass I must have been back in the day.

“You were an angel,” Bebe lied and patted my jaw. “I never had a complaint.”

Pax refused to go along with her falsehoods. “You made me listen to big band music every day for years. I’m surprised I’m not fucking crazy.”

My love of big band music had likely led my boys to their obsession with jazz. First, Colson and Cavan wanted to learn the piano, which was a fun activity they could share with their mom. Then, they took up the drums. Okay, I loved making noise and took classes with them. But soon, they were curious about the saxophone. I nearly cried when they wanted to try the trumpet. Even after I turned a spare bedroom into a soundproofed music studio, I still could hear that thing.

Cavan and Colson were, no doubt, weird kids. Though they loved playing soccer at home with their cousins and other club kids, they had no interest in joining a team. The boys loved experimental, quirky movies that bored the shit out of me. By junior high, they only wore striped rugby shirts, khaki shorts, and Converse shoes. Colson and Cavan loved speaking in Estonian as a way to alienate people.

The power of their twin bond made the boys oblivious to peer pressure. They did whatever they wanted and ignored anyone who didn’t fit into their world.

My daughters were the same way but with a more antisocial flair. Sabrina “helpfully” taught Alicia and Adriana the “face high five” move right before they started kindergarten. In their first year of school, the girls were suspended twice for smacking bully kids in the face.

Initially, Adriana and Alicia were assigned to different classes to help them bond with other children. That little trick worked with Laurel and Lydia, who were social butterflies, and Colson and Cavan, who zoned out at school.

However, Alicia and Adriana didn’t do well in separate classes, keeping to themselves except at recess, where they spoke in Estonian to isolate themselves from the other kids.