The car is eerily silent when I join the twins. They huddle close to the door like they are trying to create a gap between us. I glance at the driver, eyes querying him but he only shrugs and I massage my forehead. The point of picking them up with a driver is to avail us enough time together without any distractions.
“Hey,” I say and stretch my hand to them.
Eyeing my limb warily like it’s not the part of me that carried them a while ago, they shake their heads and look out the window. Their movements are choreographed, the crossing of their arms on their chest and the pouts that take over their lips while ignoring me for a crime I know nothing about. I give the command for the driver to start the car and we glide down the road in silence until I clear my throat.
“Bren. Bran.” Her head angles in my direction slowly. “Wyn.” She gives me a thumbs up and I snigger.
Where did she learn that? Most importantly, why are they upset with me? It is easier to deal with Elna’s fury, maybe not but I will pick hers over theirs. I am certain they weren’t within hearing distance when I was being an ass to their mother. But when they huff and throw their faces to the window after a wistful look in my direction and a dramatic sigh, I start panicking. They will never forgive me for hurting her.
Bridging the distance, I leave an inch of space between us and take Bren’s hand in mine, stroking the inside of her palm until she erupts into a fit of giggles like I knew she would. They should know by now I can list all their weaknesses without a thought, attributes I use to my advantage. I am already digging into my arsenal for the winning card, I cannot have my cuties angry at me. One angry woman is enough.
Their identical faces, outfits which match down to their shoes and socks might have confused another person. The driver still has trouble identifying them and I wonder why each time he has to call me to confirm who is who. At first glance, they are identical to a point of confusion but they are different.
Bren smiles like she was born to do that. Wyn smiles like she knows something you don’t. I love both of them equally but on some days, I have my favourite. Like now, Bren is still smiling at me but she has moved to my laps while Wyn is scowling at her sister, betrayed by her actions. It will take more than ten seconds to win Wyn over but I have no idea my crimes. Whatever the charges might be, I am innocent.
Sometimes the weight of my sin determines how long I will be ignored. I like to think she ignores me on behalf of herself and her twin since we both know Bren’s anger lasts for as long as five minutes. Sliding an arm around Bren’s waist to keep her steady on my legs, I pull Wyn to my side, open up my palm for her to lace our fingers and the stubborn lassie does. A good sign. She will be smiling with me in no time.
They share a look, they are always doing that. I will give anything to read their minds, especially Wyn’s. Their gazes dart to me, my mouth dries up. Bren tugs on my beards, she’s attracted to the hairs on my body. One time she suggested I leave my hair to grow so she can braid it. No one will let her near theirs, she’s an awful hairdresser. I did try but two months later, I desperately needed a haircut and a shave.
I wince when she yanks my beard with unnecessary force, her brown eyes twinkles with mirth, she lets her head fall back and her hand goes over her mouth to muffle her laughter. Wyn has my eyes, amber and striking. But they inherited their mother’s good hair with a shade of brown that’s closer to mine. Their skin colour is a rich blend of mine and El, light skinned and perfect with their antics. I love my girls.
“Happy Birthday Daddy,” they say. Wyn joins her second seated on my other leg, they start a birthday chorus in a whisper, skipping some of the words and my face lights up with a smile. They remembered.
“How old are you Daddy?” Wyn asks. She bops my nose, I frown. I should be happy she didn’t try to straighten it. They have a knack for wanting to fix things, among many other skills they possess. “Daddy?”
“Old enough to have two beautiful girls,” I reply and their faces scrunch but I know they are more than pleased with my reply. Alternating my gaze between them, I mutter, “I love you, Wyn. I love you, Bren.”
With an eye roll like they are forced to reply me, they say, “We love you too.”
An impish smile curls Wyn’s lips when she reaches for her backpack, I expect glitters or something shiny to spurt out but she pulls out a mug. “We bought it,” she says with a proud smile. “With our savings.”
Bren supports her sister’s statement with a nod. “Do you like it?” she asks. I scoff, like?
No, I love it and I say that out loud with a smile that makes my cheeks ache. It is almost the same as the one their mother gifted me. My first birthday gift without the usual sentiments attached to it, I miss her.
The words are the same: Best daddy in the world but with a wink. I turn the mug upside down to get a better look at it and the new addition of my title for them: Daddy’s little girls at the bottom has me grinning sheepishly. I might have bawled my eyes out if they weren’t staring expectantly at me, I force myself to smile. To remind them how much I love them. I don’t understand how I lived without them.
We are approaching their school gate when I ask, “How was your week? Did anything fun happen?” With a pointed look at Wyn, I say, “Did you try anything nice again?” She offers her most innocent smile, the shaking of Bren’s head is what truly convinces me of the little experimentalist’s innocence. “Hmm.”
“We made chocolate cake,” Bren chips in.
I nod, pleased they both inherited my love for chocolate. Wyn slides off my lap to get a Tupperware with moist cake. She takes a big chunk out of the slice and slips the rest into my mouth, leaving me no chance to protest the size I received. Bren’s eyes bulge, her cheeks flush and she looks to me, expecting me to reprimand Wyn for her manners. But I am more interested in the delicious cake melting on my tongue.
“Branwyn Amahle Stark,” Bren screams.
Her sister juts her lower lip, putting the cake out of sight. Wyn’s eyes water as she snuggles closer to me, I frown at Bren and she glares at me until I offer a contrite smile. She’s the angel you don’t want to mess with and Elna must have put her in charge of curbing her twin’s excess. Excesses I let her indulge in.
Wyn’s tears soak my shirt, my heart thumps and I rub circles on her back. “It’s just cake baby,” I say in her defence. Wyn nods in my embrace, I almost chuckle. She can count on my support all day, anytime.
Bren holds a small finger up. “Daddy,” she says, offering me a close-lipped smile and I grimace. This is not my fight, I can’t win this one. When the boss lady raises a finger, it means you messed up. “Branwyn?”
Her sister raises her head slowly, all traces of defiance gone. The car slows to a stop, chatters outside float into the car but none of us alight. Bren is her whisperer, she schools her better than I can ever do.
“Okay. Sorry.” Bren raises a brow, my heart soars with pride and I almost give her a high five. She finally learned how to lift one eyebrow. It took us all weekend. “I am sorry for taking Daddy’s cake,” Wyn adds.
The apology should be directed to me but Wyn's eyes are glued to her sister who opens her arms for a brief hug. Bren pecks her cheek loudly and they giggle. I chuckle and my chest expands with pride.
“May I have some cake?” I snicker. Wyn the cake monster. Her request brings a slow smile to my lips, I nod. She wraps her arms around my waist, presses her cheek to my chest. “Best daddy in the world.”
The feeling of bliss is complete when Bren’s arms circle my waist, I close my eyes with a content sigh.
This is home.
“You will be late,” I whisper but I want them to stay here with me. As selfish as it sounds, I don’t want them to grow so they can never ask questions about their separated parents. I want them to be happy.
Catching the driver’s pensive smile, I rub the back of their heads until they straighten up. Wyn gets out of the car first, Bren stays back and I grow uneasy when she motions for me to bend to her head level.
She whispers in my ear, “Did you say something bad to Mummy?” I freeze. Her eyes hold no judgement when I raise my head to stare at her, she smoothes my tie and her shoulders lift in a shrug. “Mummy was smiling so hard.” I force myself to remain cool. “She smiles like that when she doesn’t want to cry.”
Stunned by Bren's observation, I am unable to reply and she doesn’t seem to mind that. I watch her exit the car, torn. Seconds later, the twins poke their heads into the Mercedes. “Bye Daddy. We love you.”
Bren might not have heard me and I am glad for that but she saw her mother’s reaction. They disappear before I can reply, I gesture for the driver to start the car. I have a stop to make before the office.