“How’s the ex-monster?” I asked.

“Portia’s mostly off doing whatever it is she does,” he told me, letting out a quiet laugh. “I get the occasional note about needing to fix this or that at the flat.”

I felt the familiar protective heat rise in my chest. “She can hire out for that. Lord knows she has enough of her own money¸ as well as yours.”

“She can, indeed,” he agreed with the genuine smile of a man finally liberated.

I hated what Portia had done to him. She’d started with a shy, sweet, and devoted teenage Niall and left us with a deeply emotionally reserved version of the same man. I didn’t mind his reserve; I didn’t even mind his new emotional discipline. I missed the lad with the easy dimpled smile and enormous, curious eyes.

But fuck it. He was here in my flat, finally coming back to life.

“You should have fucked Teena Smith at Robbie’s party when I told you to,” I said to him.

He barely missed a beat: “Oi, this again. I was already with—”

“Oh, fuck Portia. Teena would have bounced on your knob for days.”

He laughed, scratching his jaw. “A bit too eager, though, yeah?”

“Eager with a cocksucking mouth and great tits.”

“Great tits,” he agreed ruefully. “Bloody great tits.”

“Who had great tits?” Sara asked, walking into the kitchen to grab her coffee.

“Teena,” Niall and I answered in unison.

“The one I should have shagged,” Niall explained further.

“And it’s unfortunate he didn’t,” I explained. “Portia would have married that insufferable arse Richard, and Niall would have been a sex god in uni instead of saddled with a wife and mortgage.”

He hummed, blowing over the surface of his hot tea as his eyes returned to the paper. “Maybe.”

Sara looked at us with a sweetly quizzical grin before leaving again.

“So.” I brought my coffee to my lips.

He smiled without looking up. “Hmm?”

“Good to have you visit.”

My brother nodded, sipping his tea. “Been too long.”

“Everything good across the pond?”

Shrugging, he said, “Same, I suppose? There’s a chance I’ll be back in a few weeks’ time for a summit here.”

“Yeah?” I said, a little more eagerly than I’d intended.

He nodded. “I’ll be around a bit more, you see. So you might as well just bring up whatever it is you’re working up to.”

“Oh, you mean the thing about how you’re watching the child tonight while I take my woman out for some fun?”

He brought his toast to his mouth and smiled around it, “Yes, that thing.”

“We’ll be out late,” I warned.

“I certainly hope so.” He maintained eye contact, eyes wry and knowing as he chewed, swallowed.

“I’m not going to tell you what we’re doing, if that’s what you think.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he poured some more tea. “Well, until you said that, I assumed it was just dinner. Now I think maybe I’d rather not know.”

Sara brought Anna out into the kitchen, making her way over to me, but Niall wiped his mouth and his hands with a napkin before he reached for the baby. “Come here, love. Guess who gets to watch you tonight?”

Sara folded the baby in his arms and turned to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of milk. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Might kick you out myself.”

She smiled at him gratefully. “Well, I’m leaving around six, but there’s plenty of bottles in here for the rest of the night,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. “We use this bottle warmer. See?” She put the bottle in, pushed the button, and we all watched as it began to steam, and then beeped when it was done. “Easy.”

“We’ll manage fine,” he said, taking the bottle and expertly shaking it to warm the milk evenly as he looked down at Anna again. “Won’t we, princess?”

Watching him like this, I realized how much more experience he had with babies than I did: between our eight siblings there were seventeen nieces and nephews, and Niall was the favorite uncle to them all.

Sara put her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for doing this.”

He waved her off, making one of his stiff, dismissive grunts.

“That’s awkward Brit for ‘you’re welcome,’ ” I said, laughing as I waited for Anna to push the bottle away and cry for Sara.