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Punk nods. “Me too.”
“We should call her.”
“Do you think she’d mind? The twins have been keeping her busy.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course not. Stop being weird.” I grab my cell and FaceTime Jo.
“It’s about time,” Jo snaps as her image appears on the screen, not bothering with hellos. “You made me wait a whole week before reaching out, Simone. Do you realize how worried I’ve been? And your text messages sucked. Yes and no responses. What the h. e. double hockey sticks?”
I snort. “I see you’re still attempting not to swear in front of my nephews. How full is the swear jar? Are you able to pay for their college education yet?”
Jo flips me the bird. “Pound sand.”
Unable to help myself, my head falls back on a laugh.
“HI, JO!” Punk hollers excitedly, waving at the phone.
My sister glowers at Punk, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “And you, why haven’t you called me? Simone is rubbing off on you.”
“Oh, don’t be mad, Sis. I know you’re busy breaking ground on Gauge and Opal’s house, and the twins were coming down with something before we left for California. You’ve had your hands full. I didn’t want to bother you. I wasn’t avoiding, I swear.”
“I don’t care how busy I am. I expect daily texts or calls from both of you.”
One baby makes fussy noises, triggering the other to join in. Jo props her cell upright on the coffee table in front of her. She bends over from her position on the couch, scooping the twins into her arms. “And the babies aren’t sick. I took them to the pediatrician. They’re teething.”
Punk and I make sad doe eyes as we look at our cherub-cheeked nephews. Both boys have fat tears spilling from their big, dark eyes. Easton notices his mom’s cell and stops crying. He spots us on the screen, bouncing excitedly in Jo’s lap.
“Hey, big guy,” Punk says in a goofy voice that all babies love. “How’s my namesake doing? Are you being good for your mama? And Crux, buddy, what’s wrong? Don’t be sad.”
Crux stops crying when he hears his uncle’s voice. He babbles happily, trying to reach for the phone.
Jo sighs. “They miss their play partner.”
“I promise to bring you boys something super cool when I come home,” Punk promises the twins.
My heart goes out to my sister as I take in her weary expression. She’s used to juggling multiple things at once. But raising twins, running a business, and managing her husband all while pregnant with another set of twins is a lot to handle. “You look tired, Jo. Are you getting enough rest?”
Jo waves me off. “I’ll rest when I die. If I look off, it’s because I’ve been worried about you, you brat.”
“Aww. Love you too.”
My sister cocks her head, scrutinizing us. “Why are you two together on a Sunday?”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Jo’s eyes go wide. Her face relaxes into a smug grin. “Are you two Romcom Sunday-ing together?”
Punk and I groan. She’s never going to let us live this down.
“You are, aren’t you?” Jo laughs a moment before she cries.
“Sis? What’s wrong?” Punk asks her, with worry.
“I’m just happy you two are getting along. I always knew you could be close friends.”
Punk and I give each other a weary look. Neither one of us is going to break the bad news to her when she’s super emotional…
…or so I thought.
“More like frenemies,” Punk blurts.
