Caitlin laughed. “He is only allowed to mind-fuck me,” she said. “It’s in our vows.”
She leaned forward and tapped a fingertip lightly on the top of Finn’s hand. “He’s glad you’re here,” she said. “We both are. We asked you to come, remember? We knew that at a time like this, inviting you here meant you would become a bigger part of our lives. At least, we hoped so. We wanted to be there for you. Both of us. And selfishly, yeah, I’m glad you’re here for me, too.”
Finn couldn’t help smiling. “Even though I’m kind of a downer these days?”
Caitlin laughed. “I like downers,” she said. “Why do you think I drink so much wine?”
16
AUGUST 2016
Even before she’d had the twins, Caitlin had always noticed, and always loved, how a child could defuse the tension in a room—not necessarily putting adults on their best behavior, but simply stealing the attention from any elephants that might have otherwise taken center stage.
Take Caitlin and her mother-in-law, for example. Beverly was her name, the sort of name that people didn’t have anymore and that Caitlin thought of as synonymous with old money. The two women had never exactly not gotten along, but they’d never been entirely at ease around each other either. George’s mother was exactly the opposite of Caitlin’s own, who was, if anything, overfriendly to a fault, extending her easy schoolteacher’s manner to anyone within reach. Beverly always treated Caitlin with exceeding politeness, as if she were a dinner guest rather than a member of the family—and though everyone else called her Bev, she was always Beverly to Caitlin, and had never beseeched her to call her otherwise. Caitlin couldn’t shake the feeling that Beverly didn’t think that she was good enough for her son, didn’t feel that she was worthy of being treated as family—though Caitlin was aware enough of her own insecurities to question whether that was just her own self-doubt or an unspoken assessment that her mother-in-law was in fact projecting.
After Caitlin had the twins, though, conversation between her and George’s mother became easier, even fun. Leo and Gus were both the source and the focus of all the energy in the room. It would have been difficult for the adults to have a real dialogue even if they’d tried. And they didn’t try. They were equally smitten with the boys and content to let them have the floor, as it were. Together the women would laugh over their antics, and suddenly they had something in common. They had the children. And by definition, that meant they were family—no matter how politely Bev might treat her, right there in front of them were the living, breathing, giggling, squirming, messy little reminders that Caitlin was the mother of her grandchildren.
It was the same way with Finn now, at the lake house. Had the two of them been alone, there would have been an immediate standoff. But they weren’t, and there wasn’t. With Bear and Gus and Leo commanding the room, Caitlin and Finn were left with no choice but to dance around them, and she was horrified to realize that she was almost enjoying herself.
Finn did tricks flipping burgers on the grill, while the boys clapped and cheered. Caitlin made a game of pretending not to know the words to silly kids’ songs, and Finn laughed along as the boys, delighted, squealed “That’s not how it goes!” with every mistake she made. They sang “The Itsy Bitsy Fire Truck Drove Up the Water Spout.” They sang “On Top of Strawberries Covered with Cheese.” They raced around the living room playing, “Duck Duck Moose!”
By the time the sun began its descent, it felt almost like old times, Finn and Caitlin trading banter as they cleaned up the kitchen, conscious that the boys were ever present, even though the kids at that moment seemed to be hyperfocused on erecting a precarious block tower in the center of the coffee table.
But of course, things were not like old times. Caitlin knew she couldn’t let her guard down. Doing so could be dangerous. Maybe not physically dangerous for her or the boys—God, she hoped not. She never would have come here if she’d thought even for a second that Finn would be capable of causing real harm, though now that she was here it was clear that she was no longer sure what he was and was not capable of. What worried her most was that losing control of this situation could be dangerous for Violet. If Caitlin got careless, Finn might manage to somehow slip away with Bear. And if they didn’t resurface, if Caitlin had missed the only chance to set things right, how would she ever live with herself then?
She couldn’t let that happen. She had to keep them where she could see them. And so after all three boys were tucked into the room with the bunk beds, a sleeping bag rolled out on the floor for an exhausted little Bear, Caitlin took a pillow and a blanket from the master bedroom and dragged them out to the living room. Finn was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, a freshly opened beer on the table in front of him, almost as if he were looking forward to having Caitlin join him.
But when he eyed the bundle of bedding in Caitlin’s arms, his eyes clouded. “Thanks,” he said, “but I told you, I’m sleeping with Bear.” Of course all the kids had wanted to bunk together, but Caitlin and Finn had already agreed to carry Bear out of the twins’ room once he was asleep. At the end of the hall between their room and the master bedroom was the room George’s father used as an office, and Finn and Bear could fit side by side on the pull-out couch there. Finn wasn’t about to leave Bear’s side any more than Caitlin was about to let Finn sleep in the room with the twins. She’d already muddled all the lines, but she had to draw one somewhere.
“These aren’t for you,” she said, tossing them onto the leather recliner in the corner. “They’re for me.”
Finn raised his eyebrows. “First you’re the milkman, now you’re the night watchman,” he teased halfheartedly. “What next?” But the spell had been broken. Her mind was already turning with the possibilities she needed to head off. How to ensure there was no way Finn could sneak Bear out without waking her?