“John Cameron Stanhope.”
“Huh.” Somehow, I don’t think he’s honored to be sharing a first name with his brother and father.
Cameron glances at me. “What does ‘huh’ mean?”
I shrug. “Nothing.”
“You think it’s weird I have the same first name as my brother?”
I shake my head. “No. My mom, aunt, and grandmother all share the first name ‘Maria.’ They go by their second names.”
“Huh.”
I smile. “Exactly.”
“And here I thought my parents’ decision to name both of their sons after their father was hubris.”
I snort. “What about your sister?”
“What about her?”
“Does she share a first name with your mother?”
“No.”
My brows lift. “Wow. Your parents really leaned into the patriarchy when choosing baby names.”
“It’s the Stanhope way.”
Ugh. Before I can ask anything else, my phone pings with a text message. I glance at my screen.
Mom: Nica help
Shit. What’s going on?
Mom: Help me please
Is her back acting up? I quickly open my text app and respond.
Monica: What’s going on? Are you okay? What’s wrong?
I stare at my phone, waiting for my mom to respond. Maybe I should text my dad. Or I could call him. Actually, I should probably just call my mom. Why hasn’t she texted back yet?
Her next message finally comes through: a screenshot of her Wordle game.
Mom: Help
What the heck?
Mom: What’s the answer?
I shake my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
“Nothing. My mom’s struggling with Wordle.”
He nods. “Today was a hard one. It took me four tries to get it.”
