Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I went over to open it, only to have Rip sprint ahead of me and cover the door with his massive body. “Don’t.”
“Got something to hide… Rip?”
His eyes fell to my lips before he responded, “No.”
“Let me in the pantry.”
“No.”
“Rip!” I reached out to grab the handle, but he put his hands on my shoulders and tried to steer me away.
There was no way I could outmaneuver him, so I was about to go slack in his arms and make a run for it when Ben came running around the corner and announced, “Uncle Rip cried today!”
I stilled in his arms.
Rip swore under his breath.
“Swear jar!” Ben yelled.
“Oh?” I kept my laugh in. My smile, however, was huge. “What happened?”
“I think he’s stressed,” Ben whispered loudly.
“Ben.” Rip gritted his teeth. “Remember what we talked about.”
“Oh, sorry, yeah, don’t tell Aunt Colby you got stressed, and don’t tell Aunt Colby you ordered food.”
“Son of a bitch,” he swore again.
“Ahem, swear jar.” I elbowed him in the ribs.
“I could have bankrolled Ben’s college with the amount of swearing that took place under this roof today—I’m not proud of it.” Rip ran a hand through his gorgeous hair. “This is the fourth shirt I’ve put on today.”
“It’s nice.” I chewed my lower lip and stared into his green eyes. “Did you maybe want me to help you with something now that I’m home?”
His right eye twitched, and then he opened the pantry door and showed me his shame.
Sweet mother of God, miracles did happen. Toys. Clothes. DoorDash bags, groceries that still hadn’t been put away, and Stu… oh crap. “How long has the cat been in—”
“Shit.” Rip was on a roll today! “Ben, get your damn cat out of the pantry and clean up his poop!”
“Stu’s Viera’s cat!” Ben argued as he came over toward us, and then he started gagging. “I can’t!”
And just like that, the peaceful house exploded as Viera ran down the stairs with a princess dress on and my makeup all over her face.
Mainly red lipstick.
“It looks like she murdered someone,” Rip said under his breath.
“It’s terrifying,” I agreed. “Why don’t you go take care of Carrie, and I’ll take care of this and the poop.”
Words I never thought I would ever utter, but here we were!
Rip’s attention jerked to me. “You aren’t going to fight for makeup removal duty?”
I just shrugged. “You were in chaos all day. I’ll deal with the poop, you deal with our future murderer.”
His lips twitched.
Our eyes locked for one small moment.
And then the moment was broken by the cat making this screaming noise as Ben picked him up by his front legs.
“Honey, honey, no, no, we don’t hold Stu that way, it makes the kitty sad.”
“No, he likes it!” Ben argued, and then he sprinted away. “Look, he’s meowing!”
“Godspeed.” Rip put a hand on my shoulder.
I gaped. “Did you just crack a joke?”
“Never.” He winked.
Actually winked.
I tried not to let air get caught in my throat, just like I tried not to read into any of it, which was basically impossible. But before I could say anything, he was carrying Viera upstairs. And while I wrangled a cat, cleaned up poop, and helped Ben put away groceries, my heart held out a little bit more hope that maybe…
Maybe we were going to be OK.
TEN
Rip
She didn’t see the beads of sweat running down my back.
Or hear the panic in my head when I saw her slowly roll up to the house in my car as if she were casing the joint.
I’d had to ask a five-year-old how to download a food delivery app—and I’d had to leave the grocery store twice so I could go to the van and grab Bugsy and a forgotten shoe that Viera had somehow thrown off during our drive.
I also had to scream, “No, birds, no,” so Viera would feel better when we walked back outside to load up the van, meaning I got so distracted I still don’t know how the eggs didn’t make it home. I blame the birds.
I was humbled—to say the least.
And I would rather die than admit that to Colby, but something had shifted today. It felt like we’d called a truce, which was unexpected and felt… right while at the same time feeling wrong because this wasn’t the life we were supposed to have. The kids were supposed to have the best life. The perfect life. Two parents who loved each other.
Not us.
Never us.
It was like Colby and I had found solidarity through the chaos. We were a team. Connected by love for these kids and panic over our inadequacies and… something else that I really didn’t want to think about.
After helping Viera get what seemed like two tubes of red lipstick off her still-stained-red face, Colby and I continued to divide and conquer.