Page 45 of The Ruin
It blows my mind the way she senses that I’m feeling off. I never imagined anyone would know me like Brooklyn does. Mr. Kibbles prances into the room, makes a circle and stares excitedly at us over his shoulder, tail wagging so hard that his whole rear end moves from side to side.
“Sorry, bud. You’re not coming with.” Brooklyn pats his head. He makes another circle, obviously choosing to ignore her.
“Time to kennel up, Kibs,” I say firmly.
He knows what that means. His expression falls and I feel a little guilty.
After I walk him to his kennel, I bend down to whisper in his ear, “I’ll pick you up a peanut butter bone from Bark and Co. on the way home, okay?”
He lays down with a groan.
“Really? You’re bribing him with a treat?” Brooklyn scoffs.
“I’m practicing for when I’m officially an uncle. Kids take bribes, right? Isn’t that how you get them to listen?”
She smiles. “Why don’t we let Stefan and Tori figure it out first and then take notes.”
“Crib sheets. I like the way you think.”
With that, we’re out the door.
The drive over to my brother’s place takes longer in heavy traffic, which only gives me more time to stew. Brooklyn keeps mostly quiet, probably because she can tell I’m still in turmoil. I don’t know if I like the self-realization that’s been happening. Or the bits of my past that have been popping up to remind me of all the reasons I turned out the way that I did.
People change, though. Look how much I’ve changed since marrying Brooklyn.
It’s not just me though. The entire Zoric family is changing. Look at Stefan, optimistically jumping into fatherhood. But God, how can he just…willingly choose to be responsible for the emotional, mental, and physical well-being of a tiny human being? We did not have a nurturing environment while growing up. No examples of what a stable parent should be. Isn’t he terrified? What if he screws it up? What if he ends up just like our father?
Even as I think it, I know deep down that Stefan would never stoop to our father’s level. He’s grown a lot since marrying Tori. The man he used to be is gone, replaced by the person he always was underneath. Stefan seems free of the bullshit from our past. We lived in fear for so long. How do we move forward without it?
Maybe I’m hanging onto enough of our shared past for the both of us.
“Got some heavy thoughts rolling around in there?” Brooklyn says gently.
“Yeah. But don’t worry about it,” I say, taking her hand. “Let’s just have a good time.”
She’s been excited about this party for days now, and I don’t want her to worry about me. I love the way her face lights up when she’s excited, and she deserves to have fun with Tori and Emzee. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze as I pull into the underground parking lot.
When we get up to Stefan and Tori’s place, we find the apartment full to bursting with people. Many I know; many I don’t. Tori’s stepmom Michelle is here, along with a gaggle of Tori’s college friends and her BFF Grace, who I’ve met a few times before. Some of Stefan’s close contacts in the industry are milling around as well.
They must have hired a professional decorator, because the apartment is transformed. String lights decorate the ceiling, hanging beside big tissue paper balls in pastel colors. There are balloon arrangements and a huge topiary with a rocking horse as the base. A buffet stretches along one wall in the living room, the furniture moved to make way for tables decorated with small bouquets of eucalyptus and baby’s breath, little pacifiers, and a smattering of other things.
“You’re here!” Tori squeals, making a beeline over to us.
“This place looks amazing!” Brooklyn exclaims right back, giving Tori a big hug.
I give Tori’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as the two of them start talking nonstop about the decorator and what came from where. Stefan strolls over and hands me a drink, which I take eagerly, and then stands beside me with a hand in his pocket, two fingers of whiskey in the other.
“So, this is what dads-to-be have to go through, huh?” I say, eyeing a massive tower of blue, pink, and yellow cupcakes. “You putting your money on team blue or team pink?”
He smirks. “I already know the baby’s gender. This hoopla is for all of you.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Well in that case I hope the food is good, because I’m starving.” Turning to my brother, I raise my glass and give his tumbler an awkward clink. “Congrats, dad.”
We both cringe. It sounded way too much like I’m speaking to our father. I backpedal. “Maybe we should just call you pops, or pop-pop. Big daddy. Daddy-O. Literally anything else.”
Stefan laughs—a real laugh—and shakes his head. “Pop-pop. What the fuck, Luka?”
We observe the melee in silence for a bit. But still, I’m dying to know something.
