A man in his mid-40’s, scruffy beard and tousled dirty blonde hair, Weston, is sitting at a desk in his studio apartment in the city. He’s doing work on the laptop with a glass of red wine next to his paperwork. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes; its tasks like this that explain his poor eyesight and need for glasses and the occasional contact lenses. His trance breaks when he hears the doorbell ring. 

He’s confused as he looks at the door. He wasn’t expecting anymore, not that he ever gets company at this time of night anyway. He gets up from his chair and checks the door; possibly it’s his daughter, Grace? Did something happen to her?

Without even looking through the peephole, he opens the door and surprised at who is standing there. A woman with frizzy curly ginger red hair, Mollie, is standing there. The bottom of her jeans is wet from the rain.

Weston: H-Hey Mollie.

He immediately lets Mollie in. She enters the apartment and looks around while Weston closes the door behind her.

Mollie: Grace was right, your apartment is more of a hotel room.

She looks at Weston and smiles. He laughs at her statement.

Weston: *playfully* Oh is that so? Grace talks about me behind my back?

Mollie: She’s 19, she talks about everyone, Weston.

They both laugh. Conversations about Grace aren’t as awkward anymore after their reunion dinner a couple of months back.

Weston: *offering with his hands out* Would you like me to take your coat and umbrella?

Mollie takes off her coat and hands both the coat and umbrella to Weston. He gets a hanger from the closet to hang up the coat to dry while Mollie walks around the living room area and spots a couple of photos on the wall.

Mollie: I didn’t take you to be a “photos on the wall” type of man.

He walks over to Mollie and faces the wall of pictures as well.

Weston: It makes the place homier, y’ know?

Mollie thinks about the fact she’s been back in New York for almost a decade yet had no pictures on her wall in her two-bedroom apartment. Weston has been here for less than a year and his place looks like it’s actually lived in.

Mollie analyzes the wall until she sees a photo that looks familiar; it’s a photo of him holding a dinosaur and standing next to his twin brother, Mason. 

Mollie: Wow, I remember this photo. *points up to it* You had it in your mom’s place back when we were teenagers.

Weston looks up at the picture.

Weston: Yeah, I asked if it was okay for me to take it, I-

He turns his head at Mollie, shocked.

Weston: You remembered that?

Mollie looks back up to Weston to answer his question.

Mollie: Of course I do. It was the first time you told me about your dad. It was also the first time I told you about my dad, and the earrings and all of that… 

Weston is surprised at Mollie’s memory.

Weston: Time flies, huh?

Mollie smiles and looks back at the wall of pictures. She analyzes all of the pictures of Grace when she was a child. Weston notices.

Weston: Grace freakishly had your mannerisms as a child.

Mollie: *shocked* Really?

Weston: Oh yeah. She got herself in sticky situations with her friends and disobeying teachers and stuff. I had her principal on speed dial.

Mollie: *laughs* Come on, that’s normal for a kid to go through.

Weston: She was once bored at my office back in Virginia. She thought she wanted to be ‘just like Daddy’ and play with my partner’s gun. She shot at a potted plant and scared half of the bureau to death.

Mollie laughs but covers her mouth instantly. Weston smiles.

Weston: At least no one was hurt, and we definitely laugh about it every now and then.

Mollie smiles and looks back at the wall again. She notices a picture of herself wearing a sparkly dance costume with Baby Grace in her arms. Mollie is taken back at the picture.

Mollie: You kept this picture?

Weston looks at the picture Mollie is talking about. He seems flustered and nervous.

Weston: Y-Yeah, I just… really love this picture of you two.

Mollie: I remember putting it in the box of things for Mollie’s 18th birthday though.

Weston is even more surprised that Mollie remembers these little things about their past. He questions how much she thinks about these things in a day.

Weston: She gave it to me before she left for college. She figured she didn’t need it, considering she was living with you while she’s here.

Mollie: *distracted* I remember that day. I had just finished the North American leg of the “New World” production. You brought Grace to the last show. You came backstage with her in one hand, and flowers in the other. Grace looked so amazed by her surroundings… huge smile on her face, looking curious.

Weston looks at Mollie while she recalls the memory. He’s intrigued about how she remembers the minor details.

Weston: She was in her glory that day.

Mollie looks at Weston, and they both smile at each other. They both walk away from the wall; Weston hands over to the kitchen while Mollie sits on the sofa in the living room. Without asking, Weston walks over to Mollie with a cup of coffee: creamer and 3 sugars. Mollie is surprised he remembers how she liked her coffee.

Weston: So, what brings you over to this side of town in the pouring rain at this time of night?

Mollie nervously laughs and takes a deep breath. 

Mollie: Seems like a habit of mine, huh?

Weston laughs; he knows she’s talking about the night they knew.

Weston: Yeah, just a bit. But it was fun that night.

Mollie: Oh really?

Weston: Yeah. I don’t think about what happened afterwards. I just think about us that night.

Mollie blushes a little, then realizes he’s probably picking it up and noticing it. Gosh, she feels like a teenager again.

Mollie: That’s… sweet of you to think of that night that way, Weston.

Weston: What can I say? We got laid that night.

Mollie laughs with her whole body. Weston is just as honest and funny as he was when they were kids. Weston smiles at Mollie. Mollie laughs just as loud and hearty as she did when they were kids. 

Mollie: That’s one way to think of it. *laughs* I just… wanted to check on you. Grace has been noticing that you’ve been… sad lately. I just wanted to see if everything’s okay.

Weston is puzzled. 

Weston: I appreciate you checking up on me, Mol, but it isn’t your problem to worry about. I’m fine.

Ouch. Mollie nervously traces the rim of the coffee mug with her finger.

Weston: *sighs* This case, wrapping it up has been a pain. This job gets tougher as the years pass.

Mollie: Why don’t you considering quitting?

Weston: It hasn’t been twenty years yet. I’ll forfeit my pension if I don’t work for another 5 years. I can’t do that to Grace.

Grace. Mollie is still surprised that even though their daughter is all grown up and in college, Weston still makes his moves according to Grace. He’ll do whatever it takes to provide for his daughter.

Mollie: But, if it’s taking a toll on you, why not reconsider?

Weston: I just can’t do that to her, Mol. I didn’t do it all these years just so I could just quit when I got tired. It’s hard, but I’m okay. I do it for her.

Mollie suddenly looks sullen. She seems regretful that she couldn’t do the same for Grace. Weston takes notice of it.

Weston: You’re here now, Mol. That’s all that matters.

Mollie: How do you manage to do that all the time?

Weston: Do what?

Mollie: Know what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. You just always know, even after all these years.

Weston: You don’t lose that ability for the people you care deeply about. We’ve known each other for over 20 years.

Mollie: *sullen* I left for 17 of them though.

Weston turns his body and faces Mollie.

Weston: It doesn’t matter. We’ve known each other since we were 17.

Mollie stares at Weston’s face and studies it; he’s definitely aged since the last time they were ever this close, but his face still looks the same: his light freckles on his cheeks, the laugh lines that have always been there…

Mollie: Yeah…

Weston: Which brings me to my next point; you didn’t come here to check up on me.

Mollie: And what’s makes you think that?

Weston: It’s 11 at night, you live on the other side of the city, and a simple phone call would’ve been a better alternative. *raises an eyebrow* What’s going on, Mol?

They both stared at each other intently, not making a move, not saying anything. Just a moment to admire the closeness they are in now. 

Mollie: *nervously* I hate that you know me so fucking well.

Weston: We wouldn’t have worked if I didn’t.

Weston stops Mollie before she says something.

Weston: And no, our separation doesn’t mean we didn’t work, so don’t even think that.

Mollie: *shocked* You amaze me, Weston Ashmore.

Weston laughs and takes a sip of his coffee on the coffee table. When he puts it back down, he’s waiting for Mollie to speak. She takes a deep breath.

Mollie: Remember that night in your mom’s place? We sat on the sofa, same positions we’re sitting in now, you told me I didn’t need to pretend with you?

Weston: *recalls* I remember telling you that a lot at the beginning of our relationship, so yeah.

Mollie: Well, that was the first time you told me that. And ever since I promised myself to always be honest with you, despite it sometimes hurting you in the process.

Mollie takes a deep breath; her voice is shaky.

Weston: What’s going on, Mol? You know you can tell me anything.

Mollie studies Weston’s face, gathering every moment and every honest feeling that she needs to pour out of herself.

Mollie: I have a pretty good understanding of what your life was like during our time apart. Grace pretty much told me everything. You went to work, took care of Grace, pretty much lived your life as a parent. But, I never told you what life was like for me. Maybe you don’t care, but I feel the need to let you know that it wasn’t all that glamorous.

Weston’s face becomes attentive. He doesn’t budge.

Mollie: The first few months I pretty much lived my life on survival mode. I drank, I partied, I even experimented with drugs. It was just what the tour was like, on top of depression, of course. I went on a few dates, had a couple one night stands but nothing ever came from them. No matter how many people were around me, that claimed they loved me and supported me, I always felt alone. For the next decade, all I thought about was how you were doing and if Grace was happy living her life. Sure, I should’ve reached out and checked upon you, but, I was a coward. I let you believe all these years I didn’t care about you anymore, that I stopped loving you.

Mollie nervously stops talking and looks at Weston, who is officially in deep thought.

Mollie: Weston…

She reaches out for his hand and he snaps out of the thought; he’s now looking at Mollie.

Mollie: *sighs* When you walked into my classroom for Grace’s parent-teacher conference, I was feeling… everything. I was scared that you would take her out of my class after finding out I was her teacher, but it sort of brought me back to when I first met you… when you first came into our class in high-school… it felt like we came full-circle.

Mollie starts to get nervous and gets off from the couch to walk around the living room area. Weston’s eyes follow her body.

Weston: Mol?

Mollie: *turns around* Yeah?

Weston: What are you trying to say?

Mollie just stands there. She’s immediately taken back to the night when they had the biggest fight in their lives. Mollie is yelling at Weston, who is sitting on the sofa with his hands on his head in frustration. Weston gets up from the sofa and walks towards Mollie.

In the present day, Weston gets up from the sofa and walks towards Mollie.

Weston: *softly* Hey.

Mollie snaps out of the thought and looks up at Weston. She instantly calms down. 

Weston: I’m right here. You can tell me.

Mollie continues to look at Weston, and vice versa. The stare does not break.

Mollie: It’s always been you, Weston.

Weston: *confused* Huh?

Mollie: Wes, I’m halfway in my 40’s and I’m tired of waking up by myself in the mornings. I’m tired of wasting my days, regretting not being where I should be, where we should be. *recalls* Alan, the guy I dated for a while after our separation, asked me to marry him. I told him I couldn’t. Despite being in a serious relationship, I was never in love with him like that. You simply just can’t fall in love the way you once did for a second time with a second person.

Mollie looks down at the floor. Weston lifts her chin up with his fingers to look back up at him.

Weston: Say it.

Mollie: I, *inhales* Weston…

Weston: I’m not going anywhere.

Mollie: I- I never stopped loving you, Weston. I’m still so fucking in love with you and I-

Weston takes both of his hands and cups Mollie’s face and slams his lips against hers. It’s the first kiss they’ve shared in 19 years. It’s passionate, it’s yearning, it’s familiar and like nothing has changed. 

The kiss ends and they look at each other. 

Weston: What took you so long, Mol?

Mollie: *confused* Huh?

Weston: I don’t know if it was obvious or not, but I’ve just been waiting for you to come around all this time.

Mollie: You… knew?

Weston: *laughs* I didn’t know, but I always knew that I never stopped loving you and I hoped one day, you felt the same.

Mollie smiles up at Weston. He reciprocates it.

Mollie: *nervously* I- uh, wow, uhm…

Weston: *playfully* There’s no turning back now, Mol.

He places his hand on her cheek and she practically melts in his hand.

Weston: We have 19 years to catch up on.

He kisses her and she kisses him back harder. Time stops practically, and the only two living things are them at that moment. They explore each other, learning their bodies, their spots, the things that make them tick; everything they’ve missed out these last two decades. 

The rain hits harder on the glass of the window.

It’s a beautiful, sunny Spring day at the Kamalani Residence; the sun is shining, there’s a cool breeze coming through the window, and everyone is outside of their houses for the first time since the cold winter. A 28-year-old man, Milo, comes out of his bedroom in nothing but his boxers. His dreadlocks are tied back into a bun and his glasses are on because, well,  fuck contacts for the day.

Milo: No kids today, no wife today, just me, myself and I.

Milo walks into the kitchen and grabs all the snacks he possibly can in two hands. Once he leaves the kitchen area to go into the living room, the front door is being banged on.

Milo: And there goes my afternoon.

He puts the snacks back on the kitchen counter and runs to his bedroom to grab a pair of pants. The door is still being banged on continuously, and Milo comes out of the room, hopping into his sweatpants, yelling, “Be right there!”

Once he has his pants on, he opens the door to see that his sister-in-law, 24-year-old with curly brown hair, Maryette is standing there, in a panic.

Milo: Moose, hey – are you okay?

Moose is the nickname Maryette got when she played soccer as a kid. With her dark brown hair and strength, she was deemed as “Moose.” It’s been a nickname almost everyone still calls her.

Maryette welcomes herself into the house and begins to look around the living room and kitchen.  

Maryette: Where’s my sister?

Milo: She went to your mom’s place with the boys; are you sure you’re okay?

Maryette is pacing back and forth in the living room, whispering “fuck” repeatedly in a panic. Milo has no idea what’s happening.

Milo: Moose… hey, Moose…

Maryette: *to herself* Fuck, fuck, fuck…

Milo: *shouts* Maryette!

She stops pacing in the living room and looks at Milo in a shock. He grabs his hoodie from the bar stool in the kitchen and puts it on.

Milo: If you need to see Jennifer, she’s at your mom’s place.

Maryette: Are you insane?!

Milo raises his eyebrows in confusion.

Milo: I’m… sorry?

Maryette takes a deep breath in and sits on the sofa.

Maryette: I can’t go home until I know.

Milo: Until you know what?

Maryette gets up from the sofa and holds her head in distress.

Maryette: My mother is going to kill me if this shit happens!

Milo: *annoyed* Moose, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.

Maryette walks towards her purse and pulls out the item wrapped in a plastic bag. She throws it at Milo, and he catches it. 

Maryette: Do you know when she’s coming home?

Milo unravels what’s in the bag: it’s a pregnancy test. He looks back up at Maryette.

Milo: She’s- she’s not going to be home until later tonight, I- are you pregnant?

Maryette: *lifts her arms up* That’s what I need to find out, Sherlock.

Milo gives the bag and item back to Maryette; he’s visibly uncomfortable with the situation.

Milo: Listen, Moose, I think this is something that you should wait for Pep to come home and… uh, help you… with?

Maryette: That could be hours from now! I have to do this now, but I’m just too fucking scared to do so!

Milo: Okay, okay, just- calm down. Panicking isn’t going to make the situation any easier.

Maryette begins to take deep breaths continuously.

Maryette: *inhales* Oh god I’m gonna be sick.

Milo: *reassuring* It’s not the end of the world, Moose, just calm down. Just breathe.

Milo coaches Maryette in some breathing exercises, which ultimately helps Maryette calm down.

Milo: Now, let’s rewind for a bit; why aren’t you at Dennis’s place doing this with him?

Maryette: Matt lives with him? Duh?

Milo: And?

Maryette: And if I just show up with a damn pregnancy test in my hand and pee on it, he’s gonna tell his mom, who happens to be my Aunt Gabby, who happens to be my mom’s sister. I know Pep won’t tell anyone about this.

Milo crosses his arms on his chest; he’s a little concerned. 

Milo: Listen, I know I’m not the first person you’d want to experience this moment with, but I’m here if you need some support… of course, from the outside in the living room…

Maryette walks back to the coach still scared and worried. Milo sits in the lounge chair next to her. 

Milo: If anything, I know how to handle the situation in a calm matter.

Maryette raises an eyebrow.

Maryette: Pep said you started crying happy tears and ran around the house like a kid in a candy store.

Milo: *flustered* I mean, sure, but that’s not my point, Moose. I’m just trying to say I’ve been through this twice, so if you panic, I won’t.

Maryette takes in a deep breath and looks at the bag in her hand.

Milo: I know I’m not Pep, but if it makes you feel better, you’ve always been like family to me. In some sort of twisted way, you were always like a little sister to me.

Maryette: … That’s sorta weird considering you’re married to my sister.

Milo awkwardly gets off of the sofa and points to the bathroom.

Milo: Just take the test, Moose.

Maryette sighs and walks towards the bathroom door. Milo remembers the night he and Jennifer found out about the pregnancy of their second son, Micah. Maryette’s right; Milo did dance around happily in the apartment, and he’s glad that Jennifer didn’t mention the part to Maryette on how he jumped up on the sofa, and somewhat mistakenly went into a split. He never thought his third time experiencing this would be with his sister-in-law without her boyfriend present. While he waits for Maryette to come out of the bathroom, he goes into the cabinet where the liquor is and pours himself a shot; he needs it.

After taking the shot, Maryette walks out of the bathroom slowly with the test in her hand. She doesn’t say anything.

Milo: So? What happened?

Maryette: It’s- it’s positive.

Milo takes in a deep breath and looks at Maryette.

Milo: You know what you have to do next, kid. Here…

Milo takes a paper towel in his hands and Maryette puts the test on it to wrap it up. They both look at the front door when they hear keys jingling in the lock. They both panic, and Milo takes the test and throws it towards his bedroom just to get it out of sight.

Jennifer and the boys enter the apartment. Milo Jr. mindlessly walks past both his father and Maryette into his room, while Jennifer stands there with Micah in her arms.

Jennifer: Hey, babe… *looks at her sister* What are you doing here, Moose?

Maryette: *nervously* I thought you were here, but Milo said you were at Mom’s place.

Milo: I thought you were staying for dinner there, Pep.

Jennifer walks into Micah’s room to set him down in the crib.

Jennifer: The baby got sick, so I wanted to get him home to rest.

She closes Micah’s bedroom door and walks into the kitchen to wash her hands. Milo and Maryette are mindlessly walking around the apartment. Jennifer notices.

Jennifer: Are you guys okay? You’re acting really weird.

Maryette: *coughs* I was just going to leave and head to Dennis’s place. It was nice seeing you guys!

While Jennifer bends down to grab the towel she dropped on the kitchen floor, Maryette mouthes “Get the test” towards Milo.

Jennifer: Alright Moose, tell him we said hi.

She gets back up and stares at Maryette, who is still standing near the front door. After an awkward silence, she opens the door and walks out of the house. 

Jennifer: *sighs* I’m just going to hop into the shower before Micah wakes up from his nap, I think he has a little tummyache.

Milo: It’s alright, take your time, babe.

Jennifer walks towards the bedroom and Milo slowly realizes that she is, he runs towards the bedroom floor, calling out Jennifer’s name, and opens the door to see her standing there with something in her hand.

Jennifer: Care to explain why I found a pregnancy test on the floor of our bedroom, Milo?

Milo: *nervously laughs* Pep, you’re gonna laugh when you hear this…

Jennifer doesn’t budge and Milo awkwardly laughs. Milo has a lot of explaining to do…

— The End —

In an apartment with mismatched furniture, a girl with auburn wavy hair, Reagan, sits on the living room sofa, scrolling through the channels on the TV. Another girl with curly auburn hair identical to Reagan, Dylan, walks back and forth the apartment getting ready, looking distressed and nervous. Reagan notices Dylan’s behavior and rolls her eyes.

Reagan: Why are you running around like you’re lost or something, Dyl? It’s just a date.

Dylan walks to the wall mirror near the front door, juggling outfit opinions.

Dylan: For your information, this is Nate and I’s first year anniversary. I have to look extra good for this date.

Reagan: Nate is only gonna care about your outfit if you’re gonna let him take it off at the end of the night.

Dylan: *turns around towards Reagan* Can you not think about sex for one minute, Reagan?

Reagan rolls her eyes and gets up from the sofa. She walks over to Dylan and takes the two hangers of dresses from her. She starts modeling them on herself.

Reagan: Green always looks good on us; wear this one.

Dylan takes the dress and runs back into her bedroom. Reagan heads over to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

Dylan: *shouts from other room* When was the last time you got all dressed up and went out on a date?

Reagan rolls her eyes and grabs some chips from the pantry.

Reagan: Dyl, don’t even start.

Dylan walks out from the bedroom in her green sparkly dress, putting on her earrings while talking to Reagan.

Dylan: I’m just saying,  don’t think you’ve been on a date since Carter left-

Reagan: *annoyed* Can you not?

Dylan: Hey, you know it’s true. It’s like you completely shut out guys after what that scumbag did.

Reagan: Guys suck, that’s why. I’m better off dating a girl since all guys are dicks.

Dylan: My Natie isn’t.

Reagan puts a finger in her mouth and pretends to gag. Dylan rolls her eyes and sits on the sofa to do her makeup.

Dylan: Why don’t I ask Nate to hook you up with one of his friends?

Reagan: Ew, I’m not into the whole “agony musician” type. No thank you.

Dylan: First of all, ouch. Second of all, you gotta get out of the house sooner or later.

Reagan opens her mouth until Dylan intervenes.

Dylan: And no, getting out of the house to go to Mom and Dad’s place to hang out doesn’t count.

Reagan: *sighs* Look, I’m just not ready to go and put myself out there. Nothing good comes out of putting yourself out there.

Dylan: Do you hear yourself? You are Reagan Kamalani. You were the “it” girl in high-school. All the boys drooled over you. You were that bitch. You let one guy come into your life and fuck your whole life up? Screw Carter. He’s out there living his best life and you’re stuck in the house just eating your life away.

Reagan takes her hand out of the potato chip bag and folds her arms across her chest. 

Reagan: It’s not that easy to just hop back into things, Dyl. I’m not the same girl I was when I started dating Carter.

Dylan: You’re right, you’re not. You’re even better than before.

Dylan gets up from the sofa and grabs Reagan by the arm. She drags her sister towards the wall mirror once again and places her in front of it.

Dylan: You’re a 26-year-old goddess. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re the life of the party, and anybody will love you. Don’t let Carter drag those beautiful qualities down.

Reagan takes a good look at herself in the mirror. She sees the unkempt hair that’s been thrown into a bun one too many times. She sees the overworn hoodie and sweatpants that she’s been living in for God knows how long. She sees the person she’s become, and she doesn’t like it. It’s foreign, and it’s something she never saw herself being. 

Reagan takes a deep breath in and talks to Dylan through the mirror.

Reagan: Okay, I’ll try to meet some new people or something.

Dylan squeals in excitement and runs to get her phone.

Dylan: I’m so glad that you’re willing to this because I already started to help you out!

Reagan: Wait, what?!

Dylan sits back on the sofa and Reagan follows her. They both are looking at Dylan’s phone.

Dylan: I decided that the least invasive way of dating is to do it online! I made you a dating profile on Dater!

Reagan: What?!

Reagan takes Dylan’s phone and looks at the dating profile:

Reagan, 26 – NYC, Aspiring comedian, looking for someone to laugh at my jokes and I’ll laugh at yours too.

Dylan: You like it?

Reagan: Dyl, this bio friggin’ reaks of desperation. How the hell did you get with Nate with these cheesy lines?

Dylan: Okay, ouch. I mean, you could always tweak it yourself if you’re really serious about this. But! I uploaded some of your pictures and look at these matches!

Reagan clicks the “possible matches” link and begins to browse the possibilities.

Reagan: *continuously swipes left* No, no, no, ew, no, no… *looks at the phone closely* This guy has a whole wedding ring on his finger! *swipes left* No, no, no…

Dylan: Ooo, he’s cute, Reagan!

Reagan looks at Dylan.

Reagan: Girl, that is Emerson, our goddamn nephew! What the hell is he doing on a damn dating website?!

Dylan: *laughs uncontrollably* Oh we’re so telling Milo!

Reagan keeps swiping left, losing hope in this online dating until she comes across someone:

Tristan, 27 – NYC, writer, looking for a lady I could buy flowers for and write poetry about… if she’s into that type of thing. Possibly coffee is more efficient than flowers in this city.

Reagan laughs to herself. Dylan notices it.

Dylan: You found someone?

Reagan: *sighs* Nah, not really…

Before she can swipe left, Dylan takes her phone out of her sister’s hands and runs away.

Reagan: *yells* Dylan, don’t you dare!

Dylan: What? I saw how you were looking at this guy on the phone!

Reagan chases Dylan around the house for the phone.

Reagan: Dylan!

But it’s too late; Dylan already swiped right and bam! It was a match!

Dylan: It’s a match! He swiped right for you too!

Reagan, who isn’t listening, tries to wrestle the phone out of her sister’s hands; Dylan puts up a good fight.

Reagan: Why in the world would you do such a stupid thing like that–

Dylan: Shut up, Reagan; you’ll be thanking me on your wedding day!

They continue to wrestle for the phone until the front door is open. A guy with curly blonde hair, Nathan, is standing at the door with flowers in his hand, staring at the two twin sisters. They stop fighting once they realize he’s standing there.

Nathan: Maybe you should’ve have given me the key to your apartment, babe.

The girls stand up and straighten themselves out. They both look at the flowers in Nathan’s hands.

Reagan: *whispers* Should’ve got you a coffee instead.

Dylan rolls her eyes at Reagan. Reagan goes back into her bedroom and Dylan takes back her phone. She starts typing something on her phone.

Nathan: Did I walk in on you two fighting or something?

Dylan: It’s alright, Nate. *she hits the send button to the message she wrote to Tristan in Reagan’s dating profile. She then shows the screen to Nathan* I always get the last laugh though.

Nathan looks at the screen and his eyes widen.

Nathan: *concerned* Who the hell is Tristan?

Dylan: Reagan’s soon-to-be man.

— The End —