was knock at the door. Muffled giggles and whispers could be heard outside, and then in unison Emma and Izzy called out, “Little pigs, little pigs, let us come in!”
Patrick’s eyes were still shut, but he grinned. “Not by the hairs on our chinny chin chins,” he yelled back.
Juliet’s irritation started to fade. It was hard to stay annoyed in the face of such silliness. And the twins excelled at being silly. It shimmered from them, infusing everyone they came in contact with. It was impossible to look at their identical faces, at the creamy skin, dancing blue eyes, snub little noses, and not grin.
“Then we’ll huff, and we’ll puff, and we’ll blow your house in!” the twins shrieked.
The door swung open and the girls came running in, their arms waving and their long dark hair streaming behind them. They threw themselves on the bed, landing squarely on Patrick’s chest and stomach, and began tickling him.
“Argh!” Patrick cried out, laughing and grunting at the same time. He curled up to protect his testicles from getting kicked. “Enough! You win!”
But the girls weren’t inclined to grant their prisoner mercy. Giggling, they tussled with their father, elbows flying, bare little feet waving in the air.
“Help!” Patrick yelled to Juliet.
But she just shook her head and grinned at him. “You’re on your own. It serves you right for going back to bed.”
Patrick let out a yelp as Izzy tickled him under his armpit—his most ticklish spot, Juliet knew—and then the three of them rolled over onto Juliet’s side of the bed, right onto her neatly laid-out suit.
“Stop!” Juliet cried, her amusement drying up. “You’re going to wrinkle my clothes!”
She dashed forward to grab the suit, but it was too late. The great huddle of father and daughters was rolling around, oblivious to Juliet’s protests. Arms and knees were akimbo, three pairs of feet, one large and two small, were trampling the suit and shirt. By the time Juliet pulled the garments off the bed, the shirt was crumpled and the skirt had an enormous crease over it. The jacket had mostly escaped, although it did look as though it could use a touch of ironing to freshen it up. Juliet glanced at the clock. Shit . She was already late and didn’t have time to iron. Anger flared up inside her, pressing hotly in her chest.
Patrick and the girls were still rolling around, giggling like mad things.
“Hey,” Juliet said tightly.
“No fair tickling Daddy!” Patrick yelped. The twins shrieked with glee and redoubled their efforts.
“Hey!” Juliet said again, louder than she meant to. Her voice was like a whip cracking across the room. All antics immediately ceased, and her husband and daughters looked at her, identical expressions of surprise on their faces.
“Why are you yelling?” Patrick asked her.
“I’m not yelling. I was speaking loudly to get your attention. Girls, get off Daddy and go get dressed. You’re going to be late for school,” Juliet said, fighting to keep her voice calm and upbeat. She hated playing the heavy, hated that the girls would inevitably see them as Fun Daddy and Mean Mommy.
“Okay, Mommy,” the girls chorused. They tumbled out of the room, still giggling and whispering to each other.
Patrick was looking at her as though she were the Bitch Queen from Hell.
“What?” she asked defensively.
“You just seem a little pointy this morning.”
“Look at my suit,” Juliet said irritably. She held up the wrinkled garments. “And I don’t have time to iron. I’m going to have to find something else to wear.”
“I’ll iron it for you,” Patrick said. He swung his legs off the bed and stood up. “Here, give them to me.”
Juliet felt a wash of guilt. Even if she had no intention of actually cheating on her husband, she was wearing the suit for Alex’s benefit.
“No, I’ll do it,” Juliet said, clutching the suit to her chest when Patrick reached for it.
“Come on, give it to
Patrick’s eyes were still shut, but he grinned. “Not by the hairs on our chinny chin chins,” he yelled back.
Juliet’s irritation started to fade. It was hard to stay annoyed in the face of such silliness. And the twins excelled at being silly. It shimmered from them, infusing everyone they came in contact with. It was impossible to look at their identical faces, at the creamy skin, dancing blue eyes, snub little noses, and not grin.
“Then we’ll huff, and we’ll puff, and we’ll blow your house in!” the twins shrieked.
The door swung open and the girls came running in, their arms waving and their long dark hair streaming behind them. They threw themselves on the bed, landing squarely on Patrick’s chest and stomach, and began tickling him.
“Argh!” Patrick cried out, laughing and grunting at the same time. He curled up to protect his testicles from getting kicked. “Enough! You win!”
But the girls weren’t inclined to grant their prisoner mercy. Giggling, they tussled with their father, elbows flying, bare little feet waving in the air.
“Help!” Patrick yelled to Juliet.
But she just shook her head and grinned at him. “You’re on your own. It serves you right for going back to bed.”
Patrick let out a yelp as Izzy tickled him under his armpit—his most ticklish spot, Juliet knew—and then the three of them rolled over onto Juliet’s side of the bed, right onto her neatly laid-out suit.
“Stop!” Juliet cried, her amusement drying up. “You’re going to wrinkle my clothes!”
She dashed forward to grab the suit, but it was too late. The great huddle of father and daughters was rolling around, oblivious to Juliet’s protests. Arms and knees were akimbo, three pairs of feet, one large and two small, were trampling the suit and shirt. By the time Juliet pulled the garments off the bed, the shirt was crumpled and the skirt had an enormous crease over it. The jacket had mostly escaped, although it did look as though it could use a touch of ironing to freshen it up. Juliet glanced at the clock. Shit . She was already late and didn’t have time to iron. Anger flared up inside her, pressing hotly in her chest.
Patrick and the girls were still rolling around, giggling like mad things.
“Hey,” Juliet said tightly.
“No fair tickling Daddy!” Patrick yelped. The twins shrieked with glee and redoubled their efforts.
“Hey!” Juliet said again, louder than she meant to. Her voice was like a whip cracking across the room. All antics immediately ceased, and her husband and daughters looked at her, identical expressions of surprise on their faces.
“Why are you yelling?” Patrick asked her.
“I’m not yelling. I was speaking loudly to get your attention. Girls, get off Daddy and go get dressed. You’re going to be late for school,” Juliet said, fighting to keep her voice calm and upbeat. She hated playing the heavy, hated that the girls would inevitably see them as Fun Daddy and Mean Mommy.
“Okay, Mommy,” the girls chorused. They tumbled out of the room, still giggling and whispering to each other.
Patrick was looking at her as though she were the Bitch Queen from Hell.
“What?” she asked defensively.
“You just seem a little pointy this morning.”
“Look at my suit,” Juliet said irritably. She held up the wrinkled garments. “And I don’t have time to iron. I’m going to have to find something else to wear.”
“I’ll iron it for you,” Patrick said. He swung his legs off the bed and stood up. “Here, give them to me.”
Juliet felt a wash of guilt. Even if she had no intention of actually cheating on her husband, she was wearing the suit for Alex’s benefit.
“No, I’ll do it,” Juliet said, clutching the suit to her chest when Patrick reached for it.
“Come on, give it to
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