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“What? Just making conversation!”
“That’s untrue and off-limits. You listen to too much town gossip.”
“All right, all right. Sorry.”
We’re silent for only a moment before Noah tries to break the silence again. “Did Jason tell you his dad’s a complete deadbeat too? You have that in common.”
“Noah!What thefuckis wrong with you?”
“What? It’s ajoke, I’mkidding! Just trying to break the tension here. Geez, you really are the serious twin.
Where’d your sense of humor go? You leave it in the trunk of the Challenger?”
Jason glowers at him from the backseat, but I have to bite my lip to stop from smiling. Noah’s kinda weird.
I like it.
“Actually,” I say, “it’s been mentioned, but we haven’t really had thewho has the worst dadcompetition yet, so now I’m looking forward to it.”
Noah barks out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mischief that looks right at home on his face. “So it’s cool whenshejokes about it, but not me, right, Jason?”
Jason leans back in the seat, folding his arms across his chest and muttering, “I knew I should’ve called Julian.
He knows how to keep a secret.”
“It’s not asecretif you already told her, dumbass,”
Noah shoots back with a playful grin. “And take that back! I’m way cooler than Julian. He’s become so boring ever since he and Anna got married and started doing adult things, like contributing to their retirement savings and starting debates about the best kind of dish soap.” He fakes a gag, then turns to me and says, “If I ever start a conversation about mortgage rates with you, just kick me right in the balls.”
“You got it,” I promise.
A beat of silence, followed by, “It’s Dawn, obviously.”
“What?”
“The best kind of dish soap,” he clarifies. “If it’s good enough to use on baby birds, then it’s obviously good enough to use on stubborn, baked-on pasta sauce that—
oh my God.” Noah cuts himself off with a dramatic gasp, then whispers to himself, “They’ve gotten to me.”
I struggle to keep a straight face. “Does this mean I get to kick you in the balls?”
He can’t possibly go anywhere in this car, but he shifts slightly away from me in his seat. “I amend that statement. Not a kick in the balls. Maybe just a soft little tap on the arm—ow!”
Jason sits back after punching Noah, a satisfied grin on his face.
“What thefuck, Jason?” Noah exclaims, rubbing his bicep. “What part of ‘soft little tap’ didn’t you understand?”
“The ‘soft little’ part,” he deadpans.
“Or the ‘tap’ part, clearly!”
“It was basically a tap. We’re in a confined space, and I’m in the backseat, I got no momentum.”
Noah grumbles, adjusting himself in the seat with his newly sore arm. “This is why Jackson is my favorite twin.”
“And that’s why Julian is my favorite of Aiden’s friends.”
They make eye contact in the rearview mirror, and despite their words, both boys wear goofy, loving smiles that give them away.
