“Michael Arthur O'Sullivan, if you plot against me, we're getting a divorce.”
“Oooo,” Oliver and I sound at once.
“Middle name level of trouble,” I taunt.
“Cillian Daniel,” Camille pins me with a glare, “You're the one I suspect he'll plot with. Don't. You. Dare.”
Oliver lays an innocuous blue 3.
“Sorry. Brotherly loyalty and all.” I drop a reverse.
Michael lets out a villainous cackle, and Toni punches my shoulder. “Excuse you, that fucked me, too!” She gestures to Lucy, tittering behind her stack of cards.
“Sorry, doll. Like you said.” I pull her toward me, kissing her temple.
Soon enough, the game ends with Camille, once again, claiming victory over us all.
“Who wins three in a row?” Michael grumbles.
“Don’t be bitter, just be better, baby!” She teases, blowing him a kiss he still performatively catches despite the scowl on his face.
“You coming?” I ask, waiting for him to join me on the deck for his one permitted smoke.
“Yeah.” He grabs his glass and kisses his wife before heading out.
Our glasses clink as we let out twin clouds of smoke.
“I know we just ignore your birthday generally, but how's thirty-eight so far?” He asks, leaning on the railing.
I can't help the smile that rips across my face, so wide it practically hurts. “Can’t complain.”
Emotion sparkles in my older brother's eyes as he clasps a hand on my shoulder.
“Don't look at me like that,” I say, shrugging him off.
It was Michael who found me almost ten years ago, half dead from a heroin overdose. Michael, who, any time they allowed him to be, was by my side. Michael who reminded me I'd promised not to make him bury me before my first deployment, a promise that, according to him, didn't end with my service.
My brother was the reason I was here for this. And gratitude doesn’t begin to cover it.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice thick.
He nods, leaning his shoulder into mine.
A delighted squeal of laughter draws our attention back to the house. Through the slider, we watch as Camille sprays Toni with the sink nozzle, her face lit with delight.
Toni's rich laugh reaches us, and my chest practically splits open. She grabs Lucy as a shield, while Oliver and Ginelle hide under a blanket.
My brother and I soak in the laughter and golden light spilling onto the deck from inside.
“We're lucky assholes aren’t we?” he asks, eyes on Camille.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like that just might be true. “Yeah,” I breathe.
Michael puts out his cigarette, and I follow suit. “Let's intervene before my wife makes this a home insurance issue.”
I tearmyself awake from a dream, slamming into consciousness so abruptly it takes time for my mind and body to reconnect, leaving me frozen.
Typically, I loathe this feeling, being trapped in my body while my mind screams. But, as I register Toni still sleeping soundly beside me, for once, I’m grateful. Though my heart is slamming against my rib cage with such force, I’m shocked that alone doesn’t wake her.
