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  “You shouldn’t have done that,” I scold Emilio as I follow him into the kitchen.

  “Done what?” he asks with a grunt as he fills Roxy’s little plastic bowl up with more O-shaped cereal.

  I lower my voice to match his deep growl, mocking his tone. “You should put your dick away, Mick, because my daughter has never seen one before and she might faint at the very idea of someone having…” I scrunch my face up. “What did you call it?”

  “Morning wood,” he grunts out.

  “Oh, yeah. Morning wood. You embarrassed him.”

  “He should be embarrassed. He was dry-humping my daughter on top of a couch cushion in the middle of the room.”

  “He was not,” I scoff. “He fell.”

  “Some men have a habit of falling directly into a p–”

  I shush him. “Don’t say it.” I jerk my thumb toward the living room. “The kids are out there.”

  “I don’t need to say it. You know what I was thinking.”

  I grimace. “Unfortunately, I do.”

  Emilio has never been shy with me or my sisters about men, sex, or anything that might happen when you put those two words in the same sentence. He’s not pervy, but he can be direct. When I was younger, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. As I got older, I realized that he did it because he loved us. He wanted to share his knowledge of men, whether we particularly wanted to hear it or not.

  “Do I need to send your mother over to have a talk with you?” Emilio threatens.

  I pop a grape into my mouth and talk around it. “Only if you’re intimidated by it.”

  “Intimidated, my ass,” he snarls playfully. Then he glances toward Roxy’s high chair. “How’s it going with the kids?” he asks. “Did they keep you up last night?”

  I yawn into my fist. “They only got up once during the night. Then they were all up when the sun came up.”

  He laughs. “The joys of parenting.”

  “It’s not parenting,” I argue. “It’s babysitting.”

  “Yeah, same difference.”

  “It is not. Parenting is permanent.”

  “Damn, I wish somebody had warned me about that before we adopted all of you. There we were, thinking we could give you back when you all got your periods the same week of the month, or when you all needed cars at the same time. We tried to return you, but they wouldn’t take you back.”

  I laugh. “You did not.”

  He sobers quickly. “No, we didn’t. We knew the minute we saw you guys that you were ours. We saw Peck first, and then the rest of you. One trip out of the group home for ice cream, and we knew we had to have all of you.”

  “Fucking overachievers,” I grumble, because I have heard him say that a million different times.

  “Exactly,” he says. “Marta was all, like, ‘we just need one child who needs us, Melio,’ and I was all, like, ‘but there are five, and we need them, and they need each other,’ and then poof, there you were. I parked my Harley in the garage and Marta made me start driving the minivan. It was like somebody chopped my balls off.”

  “Were we worth it?” I ask, grinning at him.

  “A million times over,” he says, his voice strong.

  Emilio scrapes some eggs onto six plates and puts toast and jam in the center of the table. He pulls a plate of bacon out of the microwave and slides it across the table. “Thanks for cooking,” I say.

  “You’re welcome.” He sits down across from me. “So…”

  I arch my brows at him. “So?”

  “So what’s the plan?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say truthfully.

  “You probably should sit down with Mick and come up with one.”

  “Can’t we just wing it?”

  “That might work if it was just you and Mick, but it’s not. It’s four beautiful children who want nothing more than for their mother to come home.”

  “Their mother needs to get healthy first.”

  “And then?”

  “And then they go back home with their healthy mother, who will love and care for them for the rest of their lives.”

  “You’ve been watching Disney movies again, haven’t you?”

  I grumble as I shove a forkful of eggs into my mouth.

  “Best case scenario, their mother gets the help she needs. Worst case scenario, their mother can’t be a mother, or at least not a good one. You need to prepare for the best and the worst, and not just somewhere in the middle.”

  “I’ll talk to Mick, I promise.”

  Emilio goes into the living room and comes back carrying Chase, with Anna and Devon right behind him. They sit down at the table while Emilio props Chase on his thigh, with his back resting against Emilio’s chest. Emilio hands Chase a spoon to play with.

  “Mick has probably had time to take care of that little problem by now. Why don’t you go tell him breakfast is ready?”

  I get up and kiss Emilio on the forehead. “Thank you,” I say.

  “You’re welcome,” he replies gruffly.

  Mick

  My phone rings as soon as I go into my room, and I look down at the screen. I see it’s my mother calling on FaceTime. I accept the call and prop the phone on the dresser. “What’s up?” I sign to her.

  “I just talked to Patsy’s mother,” she says quickly.

  “And?”

  “And Patsy’s doing well. She’s checked into rehab for at least the next ninety days. Since she’s going to be away so long, Patsy’s mom wants the kids to come and stay with her. She wants to get them registered for school and get things sorted out as quickly as she can.”

  “But Patsy said her mom just had hip replacement surgery.”

  “She did, but she’s recovering well. And she has help. And Patsy has agreed to go and stay there with the kids for a little while after she gets out. So she can have some support. It’s not going to be easy transitioning.”

  “So, is her mom coming to get them or what?” I can’t lie; my gut’s twisting a little at the idea of the kids being moved so far from home.

  “Well, we were all hoping that you could take them to her.” Mom winces as she signs the last little bit.

  “She wants me to drive them all the way to San Diego?”

  “She was hoping you’d agree.” She waits anxiously.

  “Why can’t we just fly them there?”

  “That was one of Patsy’s stipulations, when they talked. No flying for the kids. Apparently, the last time Patsy flew, there was engine trouble and it scared her off flying. So it’s driving or nothing.”

  “Mom, it would take me a week to get the kids all the way to San Diego.”

  “You have vacation time coming up, don’t you?”

  “You expect me to drive three thousand miles with four children all by myself?”

  “Actually, I was talking to Marta, Wren’s mother, and she said she’d bet Wren might want to go with you, just to be sure the kids get there safely.”

  “You were talking to Marta?” I ask. What reason would she have to talk to Marta? “Mom, were you meddling?”

  “Would I do that?” She tries to look offended.

  Hell yes, she would do that. “Mom,” I say, chastising her with my hands and face.

  “What?” She throws up her hands. “Marta and I are friends.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since my other son married her other daughter, dummy. She’s family.”

  “Emilio’s here,” I mention casually.

  “I know,” Mom says. “Marta and I discussed it and decided it would be a good idea to send him over to be sure everything is going okay. Everything’s going okay, right?” she asks, trying to look innocent. But if innocence was a perfume spray, I’d be drowning in scents right now.

  “Everything is fine, Mom. The kids are quiet and a little nervous about being in a strange place, but they’re doing great.”

  “They’re happy kids? This thing with their mom hasn’t been too bad for t
hem?”

  “They haven’t said one way or the other, and I don’t want to make them think about it if they don’t have to. We know Patsy was in trouble and needed help, and that’s all we need to know.”

  “So you’ll take them? Marta says you can drive Emilio’s minivan.”

  “Emilio has a minivan?”

  “He had five daughters. How else do you think he took them from place to place?”

  “I can’t imagine Emilio driving a minivan, that’s all.”

  “Oh, Emilio is a big old softie. Don’t let his gruffness fool you.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  “So, call Patsy’s mom and set up a date to drop the kids off, okay? I’ll text you the number.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Mick,” she says, and her hands slow, like she’s thinking about her words. “Did I tell you yet how proud I am of you for taking all this on?”

  “You don’t need to tell me, Mom,” I say. “That’s not why I did it.”

  “Why did you do it?” She tilts her head and stares at me.

  “It was the right thing to do.”

  “I remember when you and Patsy were small, and she used to visit and chase you and your brother through the house, pretending she understood what you both said in ASL.”

  “She learned a lot that summer.”

  “That was the year you refused to speak. Do you remember?”

  I laugh. “I just wanted to be like the rest of you.”

  People ask me all the time what it was like growing up with two deaf parents and a deaf brother. But it was just my life. I didn’t know any different. For a long time I thought everyone communicated with their hands, until I started kindergarten and realized that some kids weren’t deaf. I realized that I wasn’t deaf. That was a tough blow to take. I was suddenly different from the rest of my family, when I’d always thought I was the same.

  “I love you, Mick,” she says.

  “I love you too, Mom,” I reply.

  “Text your aunt and get it all worked out, okay?”

  “I will.”

  She flashes an I love you sign at me, which is the general goodbye for a lot of deaf people, and then she’s gone.

  I look up and find Wren standing in my doorway, and she looks so damn beautiful that I can’t stop staring at her.

  “Everything okay?” she asks.

  I nod. “My aunt wants me to deliver the children to her.”

  Her face clouds. “When?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Oh,” Wren says quietly.

  I explain the rest of the conversation to her. “So…it looks like I’m going to San Diego with the kids.”

  “Should I start packing for them? I’ll need to say goodbye.”

  “Just ask her already!” Emilio bellows from the hallway.

  “Stop eavesdropping!” Wren calls back.

  “It’s not eavesdropping if it’s your daughter! It’s a perk of being a dad!” I hear him stomp down the hallway, probably chasing one of the kids.

  I should just go ahead and ask her. The worst that can happen is she says no. “Is there a chance that you might want to go with me?”

  “Go where?” she asks absently, probably already packing and preparing for the kids’ departure in her mind.

  “To San Diego. It’ll be a long drive. We can stop several times a day and we’ll take lots of movies and things to keep the kids occupied.”

  She points toward her chest like I’ve lost my mind. “You want me to go with you to take the kids to their grandmother?”

  “Never mind. It was a dumb idea.”

  “I’ll go,” she rushes to say. “I mean, if you want me to.”

  “I want you to,” I say softly.

  “Then I will. I’ll go with you.”

  “Really?”

  She stares into my eyes. “I’d go just about anywhere you needed me to go, Mick. You should know that by now.”

  The door opens a crack. “If you two are done making fuck-me eyes at one another and declaring that you’ll meet one another’s needs for all of eternity, there are four children out here that could use some childcare,” Emilio says. He shuts the door again with a click.

  “Your dad’s amazing.”

  “I know, right?” She gets up and walks to the door. She turns back to me at the last minute. “Did you take care of that little problem?” she whispers.

  “What problem?” I whisper back.

  “The morning wood thing,” she says, and she drops her eyes toward my lap, then brings them up to my face, and then down again, over and over.

  “Well, it was taken care of, but if you’re going to start talking about it, then no.”

  She laughs and says, “Oops.” Then she steps out of the room.

  I’m in trouble. Big fucking trouble.

  Wren

  Apparently, it takes a day or two for the newness to wear off when it comes to kids. Our honeymoon period was over just as soon as we hit northern Ohio. Barely two days into the trip, we’d hit a wall.

  I hadn’t even seen Mick, aside from the top of his head or the bottoms of his feet, in four hours, because he’d climbed into the back of the van to entertain the kids while I drove. Every now and then, I’d look into the rearview mirror and see him playing a game or watching a movie with the kids. He’d wink at me, and then I’d go back to watching the road.

  However, it’s apparent that the kids no longer wanted to be cute, or sweet, or on their best behavior. The honeymoon period was well and truly finished. They want to whine and cry. Anna and Devon threw French fries at one another when we stopped for lunch. And then they whined because they ran out of French fries. Roxy gave up on the princess movie she was watching and refused to watch it anymore, and then she refused to watch anything else. And now…now they’re all screaming.

  While I’m stopped at a light, Mick climbs across the back seats until he’s in the seat next to me. He runs his hands through his hair and gives it a yank. “So, whose idea was this again?” he asks.

  “I’m pretty sure our parents came up with this one.”

  “Well, if they were hoping to use these kids as birth control, it’s totally working.”

  I snort. “Kind of makes you want a vasectomy, doesn’t it?”

  Mick winces. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was a thoughtless comment. I didn’t mean… About kids… That was thoughtless.” He stops and groans, his head back against the seat in surrender.

  I laugh. “It’s okay. I know exactly what you meant.” I drop my voice down to a whisper. “To be quite honest, my hoo-ha is putting up ‘no trespassing’ signs right about now.”

  He breathes out very quietly, “Oh my God…”

  “What?” I glance over at him.

  “You just called it a hoo-ha. Are you twelve?” He scrubs a hand down his face.

  “Would you rather I used the P word?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t talk about your hoo-ha at all.”

  I glance over at him and find him staring hard at me. “Okay…” I say slowly. “I thought we were joking about kids and…all that.”

  “We were,” he clips out.

  “Then why are you being such a shit?”

  “Because I work really hard to keep the P word out of my head when it comes to you. Because BFFs aren’t supposed to even think about the P word. You’re supposed to be, like, asexual.”

  I snort. “I can assure you that I’m far from asexual.”

  “You are?”

  “Well, yeah. I like sex as much as the next person.”

  “Oh, God,” he whines.

  “Now you sound like one of the kids. What is wrong with you?” I hiss at him.

  “You used the P word and now all I can think about is the P word!” he hisses back. He looks quickly to the back seat, but the kids are busy yelling at one another, so they’re not listening.

  “The P word, that’s what you’re thinking about right now? Spe
cifically, my P word?”

  “Yes, the P word. The only P word that matters.”

  “A lot of P words matter.” I grin at him.

  “Not as much as that one does. Particularly when it’s yours.”

  A hot silence fills the van.

  “I know a lot of P words!” Anna calls out from way in the back.

  “Oh, good!” Mick calls back. “Let’s play a game and think of all the words we can find that start with P!”

  “Pumpkin!” Devon yells.

  They go back and forth until they start screaming about who used the word pickle first.

  “I think we should find a room for the night,” Mick says.

  “Yes, please,” I say with a groan. “Maybe something with a pool. We could take them swimming in the morning and wear them out.”

  “Oh, that sounds like fun!” Mick rubs his hands together with excitement.

  We find a hotel and Mick goes in to register us. “Let’s get our bags, guys,” I say. Then the screaming starts as I try to get the two youngest kids out of their car seats. I hoist one onto each hip.

  “I’m hungry!” Anna yells.

  “I’m starving!” Devon yells back.

  “I’m hungrier than you are,” Anna says.

  Mick comes back outside carrying a key card. “Well, I’m hungrier than all of you,” Mick calls out as he pretends to bite a hunk out of Anna and Devon. He smacks his lips together. “You taste like…chicken!”

  Anna laughs and the kids each grab a bag. Mick gets the two portable cribs and I slam the door of the van shut with my hip.

  “What about me?” I whisper to Mick as we walk across the parking lot. A shiver runs down my spine.

  “What about you?” he whispers back.

  “What do I taste like?”

  His eyes darken ever so subtly. “You taste like fifty or sixty years of commitment.”

  “You could get a shorter sentence if you committed murder.”

  He laughs as he opens the door of the small suite he reserved. We drop the bags and Mick flops down on the small sofa.

  “I’m hungry,” Anna and Devon whine in unison.

  Mick pops back up. “I’ll go get some dinner.”

  I start a bath for the kids, because my sisters’ kids always calm down when there’s water. I still can’t figure that one out, but it works.