Victoria Harris laughs like someone who's forgotten how to do it properly, all raw edges and unexpected volume. It's jarring coming from someone who looks like she irons her surgical scrubs.

"And then the patient says…" she slaps her knee, sloshing her fifth whiskey dangerously close to the rim of her crystal tumbler, “Well, doctor, if I'd known my appendix wasn’t so photogenic, I would've dressed it better!"

‘That story wasn’t funny at all…’

Margaret snorts into her wine glass while Rose cackles loud enough to rattle the family photos on the mantel. Even Lilly's lips twitch upward despite her obvious embarrassment. I'm sitting between the twins on the Harris family couch, trying to look like I belong here and not like some stray they dragged in from the street.

The living room feels weirdly normal despite everything, tasteful furniture, family photos, a few medical awards displayed with just enough prominence to be impressive without screaming "we're better than you." It's been 2 hours since I walked in on the sounds of their mothers having sex, and somehow we've transitioned to pre-dinner drinks while Margaret's lasagna fills the house with garlic-scented promises.

Victoria downs the rest of her whiskey in one practiced motion and immediately reaches for the bottle to pour another. Her movements are still precise, but there's a looseness to her shoulders that wasn't there earlier.

I lean toward Lilly, keeping my voice low. "Is it okay for a surgeon to drink this much?"

Lilly opens her mouth to respond, but Rose beats her to it.

"Dr. Mom's off for a few days," she explains, not bothering to whisper. "She doesn't get to drink much normally, so business Mom loves it when she cuts loose."

"Why?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

Lilly sighs. "Because they do a lot of what they were doing earlier," she mutters, looking anywhere but at her parents.

I choke on my soda, which earns me a sympathetic pat on the back from Rose and an amused glance from Victoria, who's now swirling her sixth drink.

"So, Seth," Victoria says, her clinical gaze suddenly fixed on me despite the alcohol. "What are you going to school for?"

I set my soda down carefully, feeling like this is some kind of test. "Communication."

Victoria's eyes narrow slightly as she swirls her whiskey. "Communication? Are you the type of man who's only going to college to find a wife?"

I nearly spit out my soda. "What? No!" I pause, realizing this is the perfect opportunity to come clean. "Though I did follow your daughters to Salem State."

Victoria bursts into laughter, the sound echoing through the living room. "If you were a woman and my daughters were men, you'd be considered a stalker, you know that?"

My face burns hot as I sink deeper into the couch cushions. She doesn’t know it basically was like that in my old world.

Margaret tilts her head, wine glass cradled between her fingers. "I don't know, Victoria. I bet the girls think it's rather sweet, don't you?" She looks at the twins with a gentle smile.

"Yeah, it's hot as fuck," Rose declares, leaning against my shoulder. "Shows commitment."

Victoria straightens, suddenly looking more sober than she has all evening. "We don't swear in front of guests, Rose."

Rose's hand slides up my thigh, dangerously high. "What if I make our guest moan swears instead?" she purrs, her fingers inching upward.

I freeze, mortified.

"Only virgins brag about things like that to hide their insecurities, Rose," Margaret says with surprising firmness.

Rose yanks her hand away like my leg. "Mom!"

"Well, it's true," Margaret continues, setting down her wine glass with a decisive clink. "Mature women don't need to announce their intentions. They simply act."

Rose's face contorts with fury. She jumps to her feet, fists clenched at her sides.

"I'll show you who's a fucking virgin!" she snarls, turning to me with wild eyes. "I'll fuck him right here on this couch if that's what it takes!"

"ROSE!" Margaret's voice cracks like a whip, making everyone in the room flinch.

The sudden silence is deafening. Rose freezes, her rage evaporating as quickly as it appeared. Her shoulders slump, and something vulnerable flashes across her face.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Mom," she mumbles, sinking back onto the couch beside me. She stares at her hands, suddenly looking much younger than her eighteen years.

Margaret's expression softens. She sets her wine glass down and gives her daughter a gentle smile.

"It's okay, sweetheart," she says with a warm laugh. "Victoria used to be just as passionate when we first met. You wouldn't believe the things she'd say at my parents' dinner table."

Victoria rolls her eyes. "Margaret, please!"

I'm still trying to process the whiplash of emotions when I feel something brush against my back. Lilly has shifted behind me, her fingers finding their way under my shirt. Her touch is light, almost clinical, as she traces small circles on my lower back.

"You'll have to excuse my sister," she whispers, her breath warm against my ear. "She's always been the more... vocal one."

Her fingers continue their exploration, moving up my spine with deliberate slowness. It's subtle enough that her parents might not notice, but intimate enough to send shivers through my entire body.

"So, Seth," Victoria says, completely oblivious to her daughter's wandering hands, "tell us about your family. What does your mother do?"

I clear my throat, desperately trying to focus on the conversation while Lilly's fingers trace patterns on my skin.

"Um, my mom's a corporate attorney," I manage, my voice only cracking slightly. "She works really long hours, so she's not home much. She hired my neighbor to watch my little brother full-time."

Everyone's eyes widen simultaneously, like I just announced I have a third arm.

"You have a little brother? Two boys? Thats quite rare." Victoria leans forward, her surgeon's precision suddenly focused entirely on me despite her whiskey haze. "How old is he?"

"Nine," I reply, surprised by their reaction. "His name is Chris."

Margaret's face softens into a warm smile. "Nine is such a wonderful age," she says, her voice gentle. "Still innocent but starting to develop their own little personality."

I nod, feeling a genuine smile spread across my face. "Yeah, Chris is a lot of fun. Smart kid, too. Way smarter than I was at his age."

Lilly's fingers pause on my back. "Does your neighbor know you well?" she asks, her voice carrying an undertone I can't quite place.

Something about her question makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The way she says it feels loaded, like there's a right and wrong answer.

"I mean, yeah. Evelyn's known me forever," I explain, feeling Rose tense beside me. "She's practically family."

The temperature in the room seems to drop twenty degrees.

Lilly's hand stops moving on my back. "Are you sleeping with the nanny?" she asks, her voice razor-sharp despite its softness.

My mouth falls open in shock. "What? No! I just…"

"He can't be," Rose cuts in before I can defend myself, her eyes flashing with something dangerous. "He told us yesterday he was a virgin. Remember?"

Victoria bursts into laughter, the sound filling the suddenly tense room. She wipes at her eyes, whiskey sloshing dangerously in her glass. "Look, Margaret," she says, gesturing toward the twins with her tumbler, "they're already jealous. Barely a day into this relationship, and they're marking their territory."

Margaret smiles over her wine glass, a knowing look in her eyes. "You used to do the same thing, Victoria. Making up these elaborate scenarios in your head whenever anyone so much as looked at me."

"I did not," Victoria huffs, but there's a tell-tale flush creeping up her neck that has nothing to do with the whiskey.

I shift uncomfortably between the twins, feeling like I've stepped on a landmine. "Evelyn's just Chris's nanny," I explain, trying to sound casual. "She's been watching him since he was little. That's all."

Rose narrows her eyes, studying my face like she's trying to detect a lie. "How old is she?"

"Twenty-two," I answer, then immediately wish I hadn't when both twins exchange a look over my head.

"Twenty-two?" Rose's voice rises sharply. "So she's only four years older than you?"

“Was she the one who stole your first kiss?” Lilly adds in.

"GIRLS!"

Margaret's voice cuts through the tension like a chainsaw through butter.

The twins freeze instantly. Rose's hand, which had been creeping possessively onto my thigh again, retracts so fast it's like she touched a live wire. Lilly's fingers stop their painful digging into my back. Both of them sit up straighter, eyes wide with what I can only describe as genuine alarm.

Even Victoria seems startled by her wife's outburst. She glances over at Margaret, her surgeon's composure momentarily cracked, revealing something almost like nervousness underneath.

Margaret sets her wine glass down with deliberate care, her eyes fixed on her daughters. "Your boyfriend clearly likes both of you. That's something precious and rare."

Victoria clears her throat, looking from Margaret to the twins. "What your mother means is that Seth has made his choice very clear. He wants to be with both of you."

Margaret nods, her expression softening slightly. "If you want to feel secure in this relationship, don't back him into a corner about his past or his friendships. You want to foster open communication, not scare him into feeling like he needs to hide things from you."

"Yes, Mother," Lilly and Rose say in unison, their voices subdued but sincere.

I look between the twins and their parents, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in my chest. This family dynamic hits different, the way Margaret and Victoria tag-team their parenting, firm but fair, strict but obviously coming from a place of love. It's nothing like my house, where Mom's either working or sleeping, and parenting consists of "don't burn the place down" texts.

"You good?" Rose whispers, nudging me with her elbow.

I realize I've been staring into space like an idiot. "Yeah, I'm just... thinking."

What I'm actually thinking is that I could get used to this. A family designed to be a singular unit with a built-in support structure. Parents who actually show up, who set boundaries, who clearly give a shit. My entire life has been me raising Chris with Evelyn while pretending I don't need anyone to raise me. But watching all four of them makes me feel the hole I’ve always had in my heart.

A timer goes off in the kitchen, a shrill beeping that cuts through my thoughts.

"That'll be the garlic bread," Margaret says, rising from her chair with the fluid grace of someone who's had exactly enough wine to be relaxed but not sloppy. "Victoria, would you mind helping me serve?"

Victoria downs the last of her whiskey and stands. "Of course, dear."

As they disappear into the kitchen, Rose immediately slumps against me, her head falling onto my shoulder.

"Sorry about the interrogation," she mutters. "They're just being... them."

"It's fine," I say, and I'm surprised to realize I actually mean it. "They seem cool."

Lilly snorts softly. "When Dr. Mom gets angry, it's like a summer storm, intense but quick to pass." Her voice drops to a near-whisper. "When our other mother gets angry, our lives become absolute hell."

Rose nods solemnly against my shoulder. "She doesn't yell or anything. It's worse. She gets this disappointed look and then speaks in complete paragraphs about your failure."

"The last time she was truly upset with us, she made us write five-page essays on our behavior," Lilly adds. "With citations."

I can't help but laugh at the mental image of the twins hunched over their laptops, furiously researching the psychology of their own bad decisions.

"That's... actually kind of amazing," I admit. "My mom just throws money at problems until they go away."

Rose's head lifts from my shoulder, her eyes suddenly bright with mischief. "But isn't it kind of fun?" she asks, twirling a strand of auburn hair around her finger. "Getting away with stuff because your mom's not around? No one watching your every move or criticizing your choices?"

I let out a hollow laugh that surprises even me with how empty it sounds.

“Maybe at first. But by middle school, I just felt incredibly lonely."