Trinity

Back at Emily’s, I’m very conscious that the attorney representing my sister’s ex is in the house, possibly judging, oh, everything. I try to see it through his eyes. Does this look like a home lacking in love? (No.) Is there too much wine in the fridge? (Probably.)

Lucas went home to his place to change and came back with Ann Sather cinnamon rolls, a move surely designed to get into my panties. It’s working. Or at least, it will when I’m not surrounded by cock-blocking children. The man is also wearing another Lucas Wright special: pants that are comic book panels of Doctor Who’s various regenerations and a tee that shows off his musculature to perfection.

Acutely conscious of my nonperfection in this guy’s presence, I put down the cinnamon roll.

“My friend Pete is a big Who fan.”

“Yeah, I guessed when I saw him at the pub quiz.” He leans against the counter in the kitchen, where I’m preparing a PB and J (actually cashew butter and gooseberry preserves) for Ari’s predinner snack. Apparently the original isn’t done in Lincoln Park. Chase is watching Avengers: Civil War in the living room, while his sister plays a game on her iPad, one of three she owns.

My phone buzzes with a text from Emily.

Any chance you could stay a little longer? Pretty please?

My gaze flips to Lucas, who’s watching me intently. “I need to make a quick call. Could you…?”

“I’ll keep an eye on them.”

With a grateful smile, I go into Brian’s study, which smells of leather and asshole, and call my sister. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Annalise. Her husband left her and she needs a shoulder.”

I don’t even know who Annalise is. Emily has a coterie of ever-rotating friends with names like Magda and Kendall and Quinoa.

“That…that sounds awful.” Guilt pinches me that Lucas is here and I wonder if I should share that. But I’m not ready to get into that over the phone. Besides, Ari will probably rat me out later. Instead I ask in the sort-of-concerned-yet-abstract tone of someone who doesn’t know the person involved, “Is she okay?”

“She will be. We’re women and we have to be strong for one another. We can’t rely on men to do it for us.”

I restrain an eye roll. “How long will you be?”

“Oh, who knows? A few hours. I’m round at her place now and she’s ten sheets to the wind on elderflower gin. You know something else? Ari asked for that Danish trollop the other day. Said she missed her!”

My heart squeezes. Poor Emily, forced to compete with her ex-nanny for the affections of her daughter as well as her husband. Fury at Brian’s selfishness grips me hard. Emily yammers on some more about Annalise’s cheating husband and the tart he brought into the marriage bed. I make a few sympathetic noises before ringing off.

She didn’t even ask if I’m working tonight. I’m not, but she just assumed I had no plans.

I head back into the kitchen to find that Lucas has completed the sandwich making and delivered it to my hungry niece.

“Order in?” He holds up a few menus. “I kind of fancy some duck.”

“Uh, not tacky at all! Lucas giveth and Lucas taketh away.”

He laughs. “Okay, how about I make you a grilled cheese?”

My stomach rumbles. “I will have your babies if you make me a grilled cheese.”

“Might hold you to that,” he responds, which has me thinking about blue-eyed spawn with night-dark hair and Lucas’s smile.

He calls out: “Chase, mate, grilled cheese?”

Chase responds in the affirmative without turning. Kids these days take adult service to their every need as a given.

“Everything okay?” Lucas asks.

“Yeah, that was Emily. She’s delayed, helping a friend.”

He only nods. Is he judging Emily for not being here and leaving me on the hook?

The grilled cheese is amazing, but then it’s Lucas, and he does everything professionally and perfectly. We watch more Avengers movies—I’m always up for my tenth viewing of America’s boyfriend, Black Panther—and the longer Lucas stays, the more I pray that Emily will just show up and find him sprawled on the sofa, embedded in my life, taking care of me. With each minute that passes and no sign of her, I weigh my secrecy about Lucas against her leaving me to watch her kids with little thought to my plans. This ledger of injustices I’m keeping almost makes me feel better about keeping Lucas to myself. If she’s going to be inconsiderate, then I can tell a few white lies.

After the movie, Ari insists that Lucas—or Duck Man as she’s labeled him—has to read her a story. He winks at me. “What can I say? Women love me. Ducks, five-year-olds, whiskey sommeliers.”

While he’s gone I think more on what he didn’t say earlier. Just that nod that spoke volumes. Emily has been calling on me more than usual since she lost her child care. I’ve been trying to be patient, but maybe it’s time I weaned her off the teat of Trinity.

I’m waiting not so patiently for the foot rub Lucas promised, but he’s taking his damn time. Concerned he might be injured (Ari cannot be trusted), I head on up in time to hear excited voices and Ari’s giggles. Somehow Lucas has roped Chase into acting out one of the Harry Potter books.

I sneak a peek through the just-ajar door. Chase is reading the narrative from the hardcover book that usually sits on Ari’s shelf, while Lucas is following along on his phone, doing all the dialogue with some mighty fine voice work. Of course, he’s British, so it all sounds amazing; even listening outside the door, I would know which character is speaking.

Ari’s loving it. After a couple of minutes, the chapter comes to an end.

“More!” Ari screams.

“What did I say about raising your voice, Arianna?” Lucas is firm but kind.

“That I shouldn’t. Not even if I’m hungry.”

“That’s right. You can ask politely.”

“May I have another story, please?”

“Nope.”

“But—”

“Sorry, sweetheart. You can’t get everything you want all the time. That’s not how life works. Better to learn now.”

I expect a tantrum. Instead I hear a small “Okay.” Lucas Wright, Demon Whisperer.

The boys emerge, grinning up a storm. My boys, I think proudly.

“That sounded like fun,” I say. “Chase, I had no idea you were this talented.”

My nephew blushes. “Yeah, well, Lucas is pretty awesome at all the voices.” He splits a glance between us. “I’ve got some homework to do.”

“Need any help, mate?”

“Not unless you’re an expert on the causes of the Franco-Prussian war. I have to write an essay.”

“Bloody Bismarck! What a chuffer! Listen, email it to me and I’ll read it over breakfast.”

Chase grins. “All right.”

As he heads off, I ask Lucas, “So you’re leaving?”

“Yeah. As much as I’d love to spend the night debauching you, it seems weird in my client’s house.”

It does. I’m acutely aware that this—that Brian—is between us, even with the air clearing of earlier.

I walk him to the door. “I know you can’t discuss your clients or one client in particular, but can we talk in hypotheticals?”

“Hypothesize away.”

“What would you say is the single most surmountable obstacle in any divorce proceeding?”

He frowns slightly. “Hypothetical, of course, and not related to any one particular situation.”

“Right.”

“People need to learn to get out of their own way. I see too many people on both sides of the equation self-sabotaging, usually by insisting that nothing has to change. That they can go on as before. They don’t have to solve anything because if they ignore it, it’ll solve itself. Taking control is the answer. Recognizing that you have the means to improve your lot is the key.”

Emily would prefer to pretend that Brian will either come back to her or he’ll support her in the style to which she’s become accustomed. Putting her head in the sand has always been her MO. I want to help her change that mindset, but I can’t be seen to be taking sides against her.

I’m shocked to be even thinking this. Sides? There’s only Emily’s. I’ve never not been on hers—even if she hasn’t always repaid me in kind. But her leaving me on the hook tonight is a nagging barb, one I suspect will fester if I let it.