Josh catches up to me before I reach the house, he offers me a smile, I shrug. None of this is his fault. We take a seat by the kitchen window, staring at the trio seated inside the gazebo. From our position here, we can’t see their lips moving but I can’t help wishing they will start a conversation. Talk to each other even if it ends in a screaming bout.

“Do you think they will reconcile?”

Josh snickers. He hops to the fridge like he pays rent and returns with a huge chunk of cake. The leftover I had saved to munch on later because I can’t resist anything sugary and his family didn’t let me enjoy it. Fleeting anger surges through me, I close my eyes.

“Nope. Not a chance,” he says. I turn to see him dragging another stool close to me.

The poise and gracefulness he was forced to adapt when we were outside vanish when he gobbles the cake. I smile foolishly, this is the Josh I know. Slapping his knee, I motion for him to look out the window to see Brandon leaning over the table with anger rolling off him in waves. I can picture him telling his parents to never step foot into our house again and I am surprised to find myself relieved at the possibility of that happening.

I don’t want them here again, we can discuss somewhere far from here. They snuff out the air in a room and that’s saying something since we were outdoor.

A good daughter-in-law should try hard to reconnect her mother-in-law to her son but a good mother—parent will be more resolute in seeking reconciliation with her child after five years. I had to convince them to honour my invitation and that was my mistake.

Moving forward, my husband and baby are my priorities and stress is not good for us. To think their presence might have caused a rift between me and Brandon makes me want to go out there and whip both of them until they begin to act like the adults they are. They need to do better or the closest thing to a relationship they will have with their grandbaby is online, glimpses of her on social media. If Brandon lets it happen.

Brandon might be a bad man but he certainly knows how to be a good parent. He is a good father. He will break his back if Brianna is involved and I cannot understand why his parents didn’t do the same. Why they haven’t tried to reach out to him before now.

Granted, that man is stubborn as hell, a trait he inherited from them but he has his strengths. He’s human and he needs a bit of patience and a lot of dark chocolates.

“What about you,” I say to Josh who steals another slice of cake, eating it shamelessly. I ignore the smudges on his lips. “Will you talk to Brandon?” Before he opens his mouth, I can already tell he will answer in the negative so I add, “Please.” Rubbing my bump, I say, “I know she will be a girl but if she’s a boy, he will have Joshua as his middle name.”

The proposal puts him on the spot, he turns his back to me to drop the empty saucer on the island. “Have you checked the gender?” I shake my head and he scowls. “Why not?”

I shrug. We are curious but not enough to ask for a reveal. “He wants it to be a boy,” I whisper like I am telling a secret. “I want it to be a girl.” The people in the gazebo are forgotten as I join him on a high stool by the island. “What do you think? Girl or boy?”

“Easy. You are carrying a miniature Joshua.”

We burst out laughing, I nudge his rib with my elbow, failing to mention how much my baby already envisions having a Brandon Junior. “Does that mean you will talk to him?”

“Maybe.”

“What did he do?” Knowing he won’t answer me, I sigh and say, “Can’t you forgive him?”

“Some sins can never be forgiven,” he replies in his usual chirpy voice. We have had this conversation, each time, we hit a dead end but I had hoped today would be different.

Staring at his boyishly handsome face, I stick my tongue out and he pouts. He will talk to him, even if it’s only a greeting, I am fine with that. My attention returns to the people outside, their rigid postures. If they don’t want to reconcile, why are they still there?

“He has changed,” Joshua whispers. My head snaps in his direction, he flashes me a grin that disappears as soon as it comes and I smoothen the invisible creases on my gown.

Moved by curiosity, I ask in a voice lowered by my shaky nerves, “Is that good or bad?”

“Good.” Relief worms its way into my heart, I nod. Josh smiles so much, so bright, I have to reciprocate it. “Old Brandon was so full of anger.” His eyes dart to the window, a sigh escapes him and my chest falls. “He would have walked out as soon as he saw them.”

“Why?” I don’t know what exactly I am asking him. If it’s for the reason he was full of anger or why he dislikes his parents. No love lost between them. “I don’t understand.”

A lot of questions need to be answered and I am beginning to think I will never get the answer to any of them. I jump down from the seat, Josh’s eyes follow me and I send him a reassuring smile. I need to stretch my legs. To think. To be close to Brandon.

“If you stay around them long enough, you will be just as angry,” he murmurs. The way he says it causes me to laugh. But one look at his face and the laughter dies off. Okay.

Lowering myself back to the stool, I drum my fingers on the island and release a long sigh. We stay in silence while I process this information, I pick the fork he used and dip it into the cake. I asked Lydia to get this flavour because of Brandon’s love for dark chocolate. Brandon didn’t touch his share and I don’t blame him. With that much negative energy hovering over us, I wouldn’t have eaten anything for fear of choking.

“What about you?” I take another bite and another until I am done. “You are not angry.”

Josh’s eyebrows shoot up, almost disappearing into his hairline, his hair falls over his forehead and he swipes at them with a scowl. I want to tell him how much trouble he will save himself if he chops the whole thing off but I need him to keep talking to me. He directs a scowl my way like he can read my mind, I bat my lashes at him and pout.

“Says who?” he says. I roll my eyes.

We have been friends for so long I would have noticed if he had a temper but this guy right here cannot hold a grudge. I fold my arms on my chest and uncross them when I notice how his eyes linger on my breasts. Apparently, he is not the only Stark who likes my breasts and my cheeks heat up when I remember his attraction for me. Though the resemblance is unnoticeable at first glance, he has a lot in common with his brother.

“I went to boarding school,” he adds at my wild gestures and sneers. I need him to talk to me not my breasts which now have his attention. “Didn’t spend much time at home.”

“Why didn’t he go to boarding school?”

Josh hesitates, in a smaller voice, he says, “I don’t know. They wanted them to learn the ropes since they were next in line to being CEO.” My head bobs, he leans back in his chair, looking relieved by the fact I am privy to this knowledge. I smile. “He told you?”

A proud smile takes over my lips, I nod and he murmurs, “He likes you.” To a crush, this might have been good news but to a wife, this is not enough. I roll my eyes, at this rate, they will get stuck in my head. He needs to love, not like me. “You are good for him.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“He is good for you too.” My head jerks up, Josh spreads out his hands. Placing a hand over his mouth as if afraid for me to hear his next words, he says, “You are glowing.”

“Because of the baby,” I retort. My hand finds my bump, Josh snorts. Pregnant women always glow, our babies reward us with glowing skin for the stress of carrying them.

“A baby he put inside you.”

My comeback is interrupted by the kick from inside my belly, I giggle and gesture for Josh to stand when his face scrunches. Taking his hand, I place it on the spot I felt the kick, boys don’t kick this hard, right? His brow furrows while I hold a finger to my lips and his expression transforms to one of unadulterated joy when my baby kicks again.

I squeal, Josh screams. He retracts his hand and places it almost immediately but she doesn’t kick again. Disappointed, Josh turns to me with a pout. “Can you tell her to do it again?” he asks in a small voice that would have had me nodding if it was in my control.

“Josh,” I start, apologetic, “it doesn’t work that-”

I am cut off by another powerful kick and I start suspecting my baby to be a boy.

Girls shouldn’t be able to kick this hard. Or maybe they should so they can kick anyone who tries to mess with them off the planet. Josh’s mouth hangs open, I shake my head, it was a coincidence, that’s what I think until my girl kicks again to prove me wrong. He bursts out laughing, pleased with himself and I pout. For the duration he has his hand on my belly, all she does is kick and I can’t stop giggling because of how much it tickles.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I say, extricating his hand with a fake scowl that morphs into a smile. I hope she will like him as much as he does when they meet. “Move, mister.”

With a smile on his lips, he puffs his chest like he won a lottery. “Someone is jealous.”

Brandon too will be jealous if he finds out she kicked as much as this in the presence of her uncle. We only get a few kicks once in a few days and we are the parents. I purse my lips, I can imagine her getting away with her many tantrums all thanks to Uncle Josh.

On the bright side, she will have a fine relative by her side. A loving uncle, something I wouldn’t have been able to give her as the only child. I send Josh a smile he repays, he will be a great uncle. I know he will try to be civil to his brother because of his niece.

Maybe we will be fine.

Seconds of silence pass, when Josh doesn’t seem to be leaving, I ask, “Who is Brendan?”

“Our brother, Brandon’s twin.” I blink, my head spins from the sudden information and my thoughts crash to a stop when he adds, “He is dead.” Josh’s smile is pitiful, I don’t know when I move to stand beside him. I pat his shoulder. “He died in an accident.”

Brandon has a twin, a dead twin. It’s all I can think while my hand meets Josh’s shoulder in an awkward show of comfort. He pries my hand off him with a smile I don’t comment on because of how fake it is. I rub my hand against my hip. Brandon has a dead twin.

Seeing how shaken I am by the news, Josh pushes me into his seat, I sink gratefully into it. I shouldn’t have asked. My husband should have told me himself. “When did he die?”

“A while ago.”

I snap. “How long is a while ago?”

“Five years,” he replies and my shoulders sag with the full impact of his words.

The deadweight shifts to my chest. I am slightly relieved to know Brendan died before our marriage. I won’t be able to handle knowing he had a twin sibling he didn’t tell me about. Then again, he didn’t mention Brianna or Josh. I close my eyes, he did. Once. Or a few times, it’s hard to remember now. But he mentioned a brother who loathes him.

“I asked you that day,” I start, eyes lowering to my hands folded on my legs. My heart feels heavy like a weight was attached to it and any moment, it will fly out of my chest. My baby must have sensed my hurt, she kicks gently to show her support and a sad smile curves my lips. “You told me to ask Brandon. Why did you bring him up today?”

Melancholy hangs over us, Josh stares at me with a strange smile that stings. “No idea.” He shrugs, I understand he is hurt. “I got tired of everyone acting like he didn’t exist.”

“Why?”

For a family so wealthy, news about a dead son should be splashed all over the internet. I don’t get it and I am afraid to look further for fear of what I will find. Things that might ruin us, our marriage. Ignorance is bliss and for a few minutes, days, maybe even years, I want to live in that bubble, protected by the little knowledge I have. Me and my baby.

Josh starts pacing, I look to the window for help, willing Brandon to appear. If he comes in now, I promise I won’t have to ask any more questions. I don’t want to know. We can all pretend he doesn’t exist. As I say that to myself, I know I won’t be able to do it. I will not be able to live with myself knowing my husband had a twin and I never queried him.

“They hated each other.”

Against my better judgement, I glance at Josh for an explanation and he collapses to his seat with a sigh. In our few years of friendship, I have never seen him this worked up.

I would have pointed out his suit missing its jacket, an outfit he would never be found dead in but that wouldn’t have lightened the situation. I doubt I would have laughed at the joke. Clarissa might have laughed to ease the tension or said something funny. I hug myself. With all the hours spent on Brandon, there’s barely time left to visit or see her.

Like a crazed man, Josh retrieves his phone from his pocket, swipes furiously at his screen and shoves the sleek device into my hand when he finds what he was looking for. Two teenagers stare back at me. Plump lips, amber eyes and brown hair. Two Brandon.

The smooth nose on the second Brandon is the only distinction and I shake my head in awe. If I wasn’t aware they were twins, I might have thought the people staring back at me to be the same person or another photoshopped image. They are identical twins.

Without Josh’s permission, I open up his browser and type in: Brendan Stark.

A gasp escapes me at the only picture that pops up, realisation sets in. The nose is a giveaway, the first thing I should have noticed if I wasn’t so eager to shut David off. I don’t need a seer to tell me the cutie with him is Brianna. It has to be her. Blood rushes to my head, I exhale slowly and call Josh’s attention to the people smiling on his screen.

“Do you know her?” I ask. He shakes his head, I point to the man. “Is that...Brendan?”

This time, he nods and my heart skips a beat. My head is a cobweb of crazy theories, I clear my throat and return his phone to him. Josh doesn’t know about Brianna, his comatose niece. Brandon told no lies when he said only two people knew about her, make that three now. Me. Sophia and himself. It would have been four people but the fourth person is dead.

Tiredness comes knocking on my door but I shake it off. I might never get this chance again. Brandon might be getting better at communicating but he has a long way to go.

“Why did they hate each other?” I ask.

Once Josh starts talking, he doesn’t stop and I hang on to every word he says about a childhood rivalry instigated by their parents. The screaming matches that transformed into physical brawls as soon as the boys were old enough to use their fists. Each word carries more weight than the last, I soak it in, listening attentively until he goes quiet.

The subject of Josh’s interest is his mother in her pink formal outfit, can she breathe in that? She snatches her bag from the table, beckons on her husband to stand and I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking Josh if their father has lost his ability to speak. He looks like one to encourage misbehaviour which happens to be Mrs Stark middle name.

I strain my neck to get a view of Brandon but he is missing. He was right there, probably smiling at his mother while she threw her tantrum. Where is he? When did he leave?

Footsteps from behind cause my head to snap back, Brandon starts towards me, an unfamiliar look in his eyes and I shrink into myself. Thankfully he notices Josh, his gaze alternates between the two of us. Looking dapper in the suit he picked out for my sake, I can’t help stealing a few glances at him when he retraces his steps towards Josh.

Holding my breath as they converse, I run my fingers through my curls until Josh pats him on his back. The act itself is awkward, I suspect Josh has never done that before now. The act brings a small fleeting smile to Brandon’s lips and for that, I am grateful.

Josh pulls out a tiny box from his pocket, I fight back my tears at the look on Brandon’s face. A warmth spreads through me, my baby is happy. The purpose of today might have been defeated but at least, he now has his brother on his side, his love and support.

Maybe my excitement causes me to mishear him but I am certain the last thing Josh said before he left was, “Happy birthday brother.” A tear drops to my cheek, I wipe it quickly.

I cannot bring myself to be upset with Josh for leaving without as much as a wave in my direction. The childish look of adoration on my husband’s face as he toys with the gift Josh gave him fills me with joy, all thoughts of going to take a nap vanishes and I close the distance between us, eager for his touch and that smile directed to me. I’ve earned it.

Brandon turns to me with a smile, his eyes return to the gift, a toy car he pulls out from the box. Without being told, I know it holds a significant value to him and the only coherent in my head is how much cake I’ll stuff Josh with. He deserves that and more.

My happiness wanes when Brandon strokes my cheek, I am all too familiar with this kind of gentleness. It precedes bad news, or in his case, a withdrawal or punishment. And I know I am right when his lips meet my forehead. He takes a step back as if to scan my face, leaving me standing in the middle of our kitchen. Confused, alone and scared.