“Ay, a nurse is a grand idea. My back would be very thankful.” Atticus turned toward his brother as his lips quirked in amusement; she would probably hate the idea of a nurse attending to her, although a nurse would be better than him.

Atticus remained silent as he watched his brother for a moment; he looked just as tired as the elder Foxwood felt. A thought that made him chortle before he could cover his mouth with his hand. For a pair of young men without much true hardships in their lives, they looked like life constantly beat on them. How would they feel when they had little ones running around the house?

He should have married the boring girl who’s name he couldn’t even recall anymore.

Atticus must be delirious from the lack of sleep if he was thinking that. She would have bored him to death by now. (Maybe he’d contracted whatever mother had, and this was a giant fever dream he’d made up.)

Standing, Atticus walked to stand behind Basil’s chair, his hand clasping against  his shoulder. He meant to tease him, although he wasn’t sure how his brother would take it - it’d been a long while since they’d been lighthearted with each other. “Let’s go wake mum for supper so you can tell her the grand idea. She’ll be pleased to see you. Maybe she’ll even give you a welcome home haircut.”

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