Bash frowns.
Pretty sure that one didn’t compute.
But what immediately computes for me is the look overtaking the frown.
I know that look.
I know that lookentirelytoo well.
“Ba—” I start, and that’s as far as I get before the inevitable happens.
Bash opens his mouth as he looks up at Jonas again, but words don’t come out.
Something far,farworse comes out.
The beans.
How many beans did he eat? And how high was he going on the swing?
Oh my god.
Is that justtoday’sbeans, or has he been sneaking beans and saving them for this?
It’s not stopping.
It’s not stopping.
And I’m frozen.
Completely, totally, shocked, horrified frozen.
Just how fast can Jonas run while he’s coated in toddler puke?
Dead silence falls on the patio aside from Bash making a low rumbly noise as he stares at what he’s just finished doing.
I can tell you what every last one of my friends and family are thinking right now.
Dad:serves the fucker right for knocking up and abandoning my daughter.
Theo:I wonder if I can make it look like an accident if I make Jonas eat it.
Laney:The fastest way to clean this mess is to throw Jonas in the shower, and Bash probably needs something for his stomach. Can toddlers have Pepto?
Sabrina:Oh my god, my favorite nephew just puked on my favorite movie star and I need to record every second of this in my brain forever in case I ever need to use it against the fucker who took two years to show up for his child.
Zen:Glad he waited that extra forty seconds.
Decker:Mental note, puking kids are good novel fodder.
Jack:How did the logistics work so that he got puke all the way up to Jonas’s face? That’s some physics-defying stuff. Cool.
Lucky:I’m off my normal nurse duties today, but for Bash and Emma, I’ll give my favorite little guy a once-over and make sure he’s not coming down with something.
Bash:Uh-oh.
But the one person whose thought process I can’t read?
Jonas’s.
