“How? What are they? Baby highlighters?”
He rolls his eyes. “They bring out basic emotions. Their primal needs and the unabashed way they ask for them enlighten your psyche to your own. It makes you hypersensitive to things you’re normally not.”
“I’m not even going to pretend I understand what you’re talking about, which makes me think Lexi is the one who shared this information with you.”
Flynn shrugs, completely unaffected. “She’s a better source of information than just about anyone. And it doesn’t really bother me if you’re slow on the uptake.” I swear, he’s the least invested in other people’s lives than anyone I’ve ever met. If it doesn’t affect him directly, he is the definition of live and let live.
The two of us climb the steps to the library in tandem, and I can’t help but muse on the fact that we’re even in this situation. “I still can’t believe I’m spending the day play-dating with you. Never fucking thought that would happen.”
Flynn smirks. “I figured after Win sold you upriver with the group message, you were going to need a wingman and an out.”
“I’ll remember your kindness,” I say with a chuckle, adjusting Izzy as I transition onto the flat platform at the top of the steps. There’s a folding sign out front with teddy bears and balloons adorning it and overdramatic hands on a clock denoting that story time today will be taking place at 3:30 p.m. “Shit,” I remark. “Did you know story time didn’t start for another, like…” I glance at my watch. “Five and a half hours?”
Flynn shrugs.
“You didn’t check the website or something?”
He grins. “Who do you think I am? Mary Poppins? The babies get bored staring at the walls in our apartment. Not doing that is about as far as I planned.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head at Ryder and Roman. “Your daddy thinks he has to have a flying umbrella to find a schedule online, guys. I apologize for what that’s going to mean for your future.”
Ryder just grins, and Roman reaches out to tug on Flynn’s shirt.
Flynn, not one to lie down and take any abuse, hits me right back. “That’s rich coming from the guy who couldn’t be more vague about his future if he tried. What exactly are you doing with Maria? The baby? Are you committed?”
I roll my eyes and groan. Even a little surprised that Flynn, of all people, is going there.
“You invited this, bro. You’ve only got yourself to blame.”
“I don’t know. I could blame you. Seeing as you knew my full fortune from Cleo and didn’t bother to tell me.”
Flynn’s eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “I figured you wouldn’t want to know.”
“I mean, I get that in the beginning, but recently? With all of yours coming to fruition? Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Because I think it’s bullshit. Whether the fortunes have come true or not, no man should have anyone involved in his destiny other than himself. You have to make your own choices, carve your own path. Not sit around waiting for some shit a lady with velvet curtains tells you is going to happen.”
The thing I love about Flynn is that he doesn’t even ask me how I knew there was more to my fortune. He’s reliable with that kind of shit. He’s the guy who waits for you to want to tell him, instead of pushing and prying like everyone else in our family.
“Well…” I pause and sigh. “Who is going to be in charge of our destiny today? Now that the library’s not happening.”
Flynn grins at my avoidance and points in the direction of Wall Street. “They’re having some sort of fall carnival down there with all kinds of shit.”
“Do they have stuff for infants?”
“Dude.” Flynn laughs. “Does anywhere have stuff for infants? I’m sure it’ll do.”
He has a point. It’s not like Izzy is going to be hopping on a Ferris wheel anytime soon. “All right. Let’s do it.”
Almost in tandem, the two of us pull our sunglasses from our heads and slide them down onto our eyes, jogging down the steps of the library again like some sort of scene out of Ocean’s 11.
Watch out, George Clooney and Brad Pitt. A new duo is coming to town. Though, this duo has three babies. One of whom is named Ryder and is now screeching like a banshee in Flynn’s arms.
But still, come hell or high water, we’re a-coming, babies in tow.
Upon arrival at the fall carnival, I can see that we’ve made an egregious error.
This is the kind of dog and pony show people plan to attend for nearly a month in advance, so that they can create a plot of attack and brief their kids on how many dollars they’ll get to spend on games. There are rides and vendors and game booths and food trucks everywhere, and the smell of frying dough for funnel cakes hangs heavy in the air.