Vivi grinned proudly.
I thought again about how I had given up everything else I loved in pursuit of one passion. My stomach churned when I considered that, perhaps, my husband had done exactly the same thing.
TWELVE
the natives
ansley
The girls had been gone one day, but as I looked around my kitchen, it was hard to believe it hadn’t been longer. Mail was stacked on the island. Peanut-butter-and-jelly crusts, along with sippy cups and a jug of chocolate milk, were still at the boys’ spots from lunch. The paper towels AJ had dropped had unrolled and made a trail from the sink to the fridge. In short, there was stuff everywhere. And that was just in the kitchen.
The back door opened and James walked in, Preston strapped to his chest. “Whoa,” he said, looking around the kitchen. “Ans, the natives are winning.”
I smiled at him tiredly.
“What can I do to help?”
I sighed. “Taking them to breakfast was a huge help, James. Thank you so much.”
I glanced longingly at my design bag in the corner of the room, wondering how I would have any sketches or mood boards for Jack by the end of the week.
“Well, I’m at your service,” he said. Then he paused. “When do they go to Linda’s again?”
We both laughed. I was still angry with James, of course, but today had cemented us as partners in crime. We only had each other. He might look a little too pristine in his collared shirt and pressed shorts, but no matter what I could say about James, there was no denying he was a great dad—and uncle.
He walked into the den. “How’sDoc McStuffins, AJ?” I heard him ask.
“It’s the one where the fire truck gets dedydrated.”
“Oh yeah?” James asked, laughing at his mispronunciation. “Hey, where’s your brother?”
My ears perked.
When AJ didn’t respond, I ran into the den. “Where’s Taylor?
“Taylor!” I called.
“Taylor!” James also called, running upstairs.
I checked the front door. It was still locked.
“Taylor!” I heard James call again.
Mom walked out of her bedroom.
“Good land of the living! What is all this commotion?”
Before I could answer, I heard a gasp and I went running.
When I reached Emerson’s room, I gasped too. There were thick, black smears all over the wallpaper, bamboo coverlet, windowsills, and doors. “Taylor, no!” I said, lunging at him. I grabbed the tool of destruction out of his hand as he screamed.
“What is that?” I asked, as if he were going to respond.
I looked up at James. “Ah,” I said. “Eyeliner.”
Mom appeared in the doorway. “That’s going to be tough to get out.”
Emerson would be thrilled to hear her nephew destroyed her favorite eyeliner, but that was nothing compared to the havoc he’d wreaked on my favorite guest room.
