I disentangled her. “Wonderful,” I said. “Go play spies with Molly. Pretend it’s the 1980s, during the Cold War.
“And Maureen, it’s fine. We’ll have pizza, watch TV or something, they’ll go to bed. Easy times all around.”
“The therapist said that I’m a good jumper!” Molly announced as she started jumping around us.
“The therapist said that I’m also good at playing video games!” Nora cried. “And coping!”
Maureen looked horrified. “She must have overheard us,” she whispered. “Oh God, I—”
“They’re fine,” I said to her. “I have your cell; obviously, I’ll call you if anything goes wrong, and Oliver’s upstairs, right?” I didn’t mean for that last part to sound so much like a question.
Maureen glanced toward the upstairs part of the house, and the two little girls followed her gaze. “Okay,” she finally said. “But if you need anything—anything—just call or text me. Or Rick. Or your mom.”
“Got it,” I said, half shoving, half escorting her out the door as she blew kisses to the twins. “I’ll call the SWAT team if anyone gets a paper cut.”
She gave me the kind of Look that all mothers are capable of giving, then blew one last kiss in the general direction of the kitchen. “Bye, girls, love you!” she called out behind her.
“Bye!” Neither of them looked up from their game.
“Okay!” I said, clapping my hands together as I went back into the kitchen. “What do we want?”
“Pizza!” the kids yelled.
“And when do we want it?”
“Now!”
“Well, we have to order it and wait for it to be delivered, but I see where you were going with that.”
The kids just blinked at me. Sometimes they’re not the most appreciative audience for my sense of humor.
“Find the menu,” I told Nora. “Let’s get this party started.”
An hour later, the twins were fed and sprawled on the couch, watching a movie that was very loud and very animated. I was doing my calculus homework in the chair farthest away from the TV, with Molly’s head resting on my ankles. Nora was wearing a paper crown that had been colored blue and pink, curled up on the corner of the couch, her thumb in her mouth and her finger hooked around her nose. (It’s the easiest way to tell the twins apart.)
I heard the footsteps before I saw Oliver’s feet on the stairs. He had on white athletic socks, gray sweatpants, and a white T-shirt, his hair rumpled like he had been sleeping. “Um, hey,” he said, waving a little. “Is there pizza still?”
The movie was immediately abandoned just as my heart started to pick up speed.
“Yes!” Molly said. “We have three kinds!” She held up three fingers as she leaned across my legs. “’Cause there’s three of us.”
“Why do you guys—”
“I’m a girl, not a guy!”
“Oh. Sorry. Why do you girls need three kinds?”
I pointed at Nora. “Hit it, Nora.”
“I can’t eat gluten,” Nora announced, beaming at her older brother. “It makes me barf.”
Oliver winced. “Good to know.”
Molly shoved her way in front of her sister before I could even point at her. They adored Oliver, it was obvious. I felt like I was watching a bunch of peasant girls compete for the prince’s affections. “Let me guess,” Oliver said. “You . . . can’t eat tomatoes.”
“No!” she giggled. “I’m a veggietarian!”
Oliver started making his way to the kitchen, both girls trailing along behind him. I was just the boring next-door neighbor/babysitter, so of course I was abandoned. “Do you eat pizza?” Nora asked Oliver. “Do you like pizza? Or do you like sushi? I like sushi, too.”
“I thought you were a vegetarian.”
“That’s me!” Molly said.
“Well, I like pizza and sushi,” Oliver said, picking up a slice and folding an end expertly in half and biting off the pointed part. “This must be the gluten-free pizza,” he said after a few chews. “Who knew gluten was so important?”
Nora just smiled at him.
“Why do you eat it like that?” Molly asked. “It’s all folded up.”
“That’s how you eat it in New York,” Oliver told her. He was already halfway through his slice, talking with his mouth full. I tried not to be grossed out.
“Really?” Nora said.
“Yep. There, you can go into stores and just buy a slice of pizza and then you eat it standing up, like this.”
The twins immediately dove for the pizza boxes again. That was my cue.
“Hey, hey, we’ll try it some other time,” I said, reaching them before they ate more pizza and caused an unpleasant end to the evening. “You both had enough tonight.”
“You’re no fun.” Nora pouted.
“I think I can live with that,” I told her, then shut the boxes just as Oliver was going for another slice. “Oh! Oh, sorry, I mean . . . you can have more. Sure.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure, babysitter?”
It took a few seconds to find my voice again. “Um, yeah. The rules only apply to anyone under four feet tall.”
“I’m taller than Molly,” Nora immediately told Oliver.