Page 14 of The Incredible Ordinary

“How?” I blurt, like a fucking idiot. I’m not a hundred percent sure what I’m asking. I think the how is supposed to cover all my questions.

“I imagine the same way not-fifteen-year-olds have kids,” he says, lips still twitching, before he glances at his watch. “A story for another day. I have to get going. My lunch break ended ten minutes ago.”

“Oh. Yeah. I should probably go tell Aiden what’s going on with Rory.”

“A pair of guardians,” Jordan says. “Rory’s lucky, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

“That makes me sound way more competent than I actually am.”

Jordan laughs again. He stops. The smile remains. “You should probably give me your number, so I can get you the details about soccer. Our next practice is on Wednesday at five. We have them twice a week. Wednesday and Saturday. Mark your calendar.”

We both pull out our phones and exchange contacts.

Jordan slides his phone back into his pocket and sends me one more friendly smile.

“I’ll see you, Milàn.”

I nod. “Yeah. See you.”

He turns around and walks away.

And for a moment, I don’t feel so damn lost.

JORDAN

The smellof spaghetti sauce and meatballs greets me the moment I open the door. I stop and inhale with deep appreciation while my stomach rumbles. It’s been a long day, and I skipped lunch because of the detour to Theo’s school, so I’m starving.

I slide off my boots, drop my bag on the floor, and shrug out of my jacket before I head toward the living area.

The kitchen is bright and loud with voices. Theo is parked at the table with his textbooks, my dad sitting next to him, leafing through some papers. Theo is absently chewing on the end of his pencil, his mess of dark brown curls flopping over his forehead. He could use a haircut.

Dad has his glasses pushed up on top of his head, his hair a mix of gray and the exact same dark brown shade as Theo’s.

My son doesn’t really look like me, or really anybody from my side of the family. Aside from the color of his hair, the rest of him is all Kira. The roundish face with dimples that show even when he’s not smiling. The deep blue of his eyes. The high forehead. The button nose. Even the slight gap between his front teeth—all from his mother.

He’s somewhere right between the innocence of childhood smiles and the awkwardness of adolescence, hovering, not quite here anymore but not quite there yet either.

Wren is leaning against the counter, and Sutton is putting the finishing touches on dinner. They have their own place in Soho, but they spend so much time here I sometimes forget that they don’t actually live with us.

It’s nice. I don’t think I even know how to live without all my people around me.

The two of them have been together for almost a year now, and Wren has gone from hiding from the world to slowly gaining confidence. He’s wearing short sleeves. He never used to do that. I’ve known him since he was a kid. He’s gone from Kira’s annoying baby brother to my sort-of brother-in-law, to my sort-of ex-brother-in-law, and by now I just think of him asmybaby brother, with any influence from Kira having passed a long time ago.

“It’s nice Wren stumbled upon you,” I tell Sutton when I pass him on my way to the table. “It’s like having a personal chef move in with us.”

“It’s what persuaded me to keep him,” Wren says. “I wasn’t sure about it at first, but then I thought, somebody needs to feed Jordan. Take one for the team, Wren. So I did. You’re welcome.”

Sutton just laughs and presses a quick kiss to Wren’s lips on his way to the sink. Wren looks at him with the kind of gentleness that makes me feel wistful. It’s been a long time since I felt like that about anybody. A lifetime ago.

I ignore the whisper of melancholy that sometimes parks itself in my chest when I think about Kira, and instead of examining it too closely, I start to set the table instead. Wren takes the utensils from the drawer, and we work around Theo to set everything up.

“Dinner, kiddo.” I kiss the top of my son’s head.

He looks up, blinks, and after I squeeze his shoulder, starts to put his textbooks away. A few minutes later we’ve all settled around the table with plates of food in front of us, and everybody’s eating, except for Theo, who’s pushing his food around, a faraway look in his eyes.

Needless to say, it draws attention. Theo usually eats like it’s his only meal for the foreseeable future and somebody’s standing behind him to grab the plate if he’s not fast enough.

“How was school?” Wren asks after eyeing Theo for a bit.