Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Sure thing, honey.”
“Swear to me—”
She’s barely restraining a smile, I can tell. “Oh all right.” She holds up her hand like she’s about to make a sworn statement in a courtroom. “I hereby declare that Sawyer Garnett…”
She doesn’t know the rest so I help her along. “Is a horrible man with no heart and no soul and from this point forward—”
“Now slow down, I’m not going to remember all that. I’ve got ‘is a horrible man’ but then you lost me with the soul stuff.”
Her phone rings, interrupting our binding oath. I’m annoyed she goes to answer it, but it’s Lindsey, and though I only hear Queenie’s end of the conversation, I can tell where things are headed.
Once Queenie hangs up, she nods toward me. “Go shower and clean up. Lindsey’s freaking out about Cruz’s birthday. Apparently none of the decorations are hanging right and she’s worried she won’t have time to get everything set up tomorrow morning before the party. She’s promised us dinner and wine if we’re willing to come help her out.”
I’m already headed for the stairs so I can clean up. “If it’s Starlight Vineyards wine, I don’t want it!”
Queenie loses the battle with her smile. “Sounds good. We’ll toss it if it is. And sweetie?” She taps her forehead. “You’ve got a little mud right there.”
CHAPTER 12
I’m sad to report that David is apparently not the brother I thought he was. He’s a traitor! A snake! A veritable Judas.
“It’s a simple oath. Repeat after me. Sawyer Garnett is—”
David laughs me off, continuing to tear into a twelve pack of beer. “Would you cut it out, Madison? I’m trying to get these on ice before Lindsey chews me out.”
It’s late Sunday morning and I’m over at Lindsey and David’s house with my mom doing all the last-minute prep for Cruz’s first birthday party. We’ve been at it since eight AM, and we didn’t leave here last night until close to midnight. We’ve DIYed the hell out of this place. We’ve created a balloon arch, a balloon garland, and a balloon backdrop. We’ve applied personalized party stickers with Cruz’s cute little face to bags of Goldfish and cookies and juice boxes. There’s a blueberry fruit plate that’s been arranged to look like Cookie Monster’s face and a strawberry fruit plate that looks like Elmo. We’ve assembled an Oscar veggie platter and a Big Bird cheese board. I’ve burned my fingers with a hot glue gun one too many times to count (birthday banner) and poked them with thorns (floral arrangements) and I’m too scared to go back into the kitchen because Lindsey—my usually cool, calm, and collected sister-in-law—is losing it in there.
“Queenie, these cookies were supposed to say, ‘Cruz is 1!’ But instead they say ‘Happy Birthday Cruz’…can you believe that?! I’m going to call Camille down at the bakery right now and—”
There’s an audible shuffling; I think Queenie’s wrestled the phone out of her hand. “Now listen, that sounds like a real problem, but let’s call Camille later. How about we focus on the party favors?”
I can’t go into the lion’s den; I have an important job of my own right now: converting David to my side.
I bend down near the cooler he’s filling with beers and lower my voice. “Listen, I’ll help you ice these down so long as you’re willing to never talk to Sawyer Garnett ever again.”
He gives me a curious look and yanks the box out of my grasp. “What the hell happened with you two? I saw him last night and he was mad as hell. Barely said two words to the group the entire time we were with him and then he left early. I doubt he’ll be in a better mood this afternoon.”
This afternoon?
“He’s coming?!” I slam the lid of the cooler closed in my outrage.
David pries it open again. “Of course he’s coming. He’s practically Cruz’s uncle.”
“Practically Cruz’s uncle? Well I’m his actual aunt! That should count for something, and I’m hereby disinviting him.” I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone and I’ll text him right now.”
“No can do. He’s picking up the barbecue from Doc’s and he’ll be here any minute.” He shoves a few empty beer cartons into my hands. “Recycle those for me, will you?”
I head into the kitchen with the flattened cardboard—not because I’m giving up on my argument with David but because I need to retreat and regroup—but when I’m at the doorway, Queenie catches my gaze, widens her eyes, and slashes her hand across her throat. The sentiment is clear: Do not come in here! Save yourself!
I should slink off in the other direction. Lindsey’s worrying that the party favor bags aren’t the right shade of red. “These are ruby red and I wanted them to be scarlet.”
She sounds close to hysterics. This is perfect for me; I can use this.