I glanced at Mia as I backed out of the parking space. “Bring what?”
“Did I bring it?Psh. What kind of question is that?” Nina dug through her duffel bag and passed a shirt to Mia.
Mia squealed, a sound I hadn’t heard her make all summer, and put the shirt on over her tank top. “This is epic. Thanks, Nina.”
“I’m wearing one too.” Nina turned to me. “Don’t worry, Jo, I have a special shirt for you. And two extras for Kitty and Greyson. I even brought one for Alex.”
“What kind of special shirt?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but since it involved me in some way, I had no choice but to ask. We stopped at a red light, and Nina stretched out what I’d thought was a normal grayT-shirt. “I’m just a good mom with a hood playlist,” I read aloud. “I don’t get it.”
“Yours is my favorite, Mia,” Nina said.
“What does it say?” Kitty asked.
“This mom runs on wine and Amazon Prime.” Mia sighed into her seat. “Friggin’ perfect.”
“Sorry, but I’m a little confused,” I said. “Can someone enlighten me? And what’s my shirt say?”
“Nina has a collection of sassy mom T-shirts,” Mia explained.
“Whenever I see one, I just have to buy it,” Nina said.
Of course she did. I should’ve known Nina wouldn’t own a boring gray shirt. “Why?”
Nina shook her head, setting her unicorn earrings swirling. “That’s the wrong question, babe. The question is why not?”
“You meanwinenot,” Mia said, earning herself a high five from Nina.
“To answer your second question,” Nina said, “yours saysTired as a mother, because you need to sleep in a castle. I broughtMessy bun and getting stuff donefor Kitty andMomming is my cardiofor Greyson. And for AlexBoo boo healer, kiss stealer, snack dealer, because he always has snacks, and, you know, the kissing thing.”
“What kissing thing?” Greyson asked.
I shot Nina a glare.
“Because he’s a chef,” Nina said. “Chef’s kiss.” She brought her fingers to her lips and tossed them at me.
By the time we’d made it to I-95, everyone had their sassy mom tees on, including me (Nina had shoved it over my head at a red light). So far, everything was going according to plan: the packing, the extra twenty minutes I’d built in to account for Nina inevitably being late. Even the traffic was lighter than usual. The five of us sang girl power anthems with the windows down, letting the wind mess up our hair. And when we’d finished singing, Greyson talked nonstop, making us laugh with her stories of all the strange things she’d seen in Miami. But as soon as wepulled off the turnpike, she went quiet, and that was when the chaos began.
“Uh, Aunt Jo,” Kitty said.
I turned onto US 1, less than two miles from our destination. “Yeah?”
“I think something’s wrong with Greyson.”
I glanced at Greyson through the rearview mirror. She had her eyes shut and her arms wrapped around her middle. Maybe it was nothing, but what if it wasn’t? What if her appendix burst? What if it was a brain aneurysm? “Greyson, are you all right? Can you talk to me?”
“Carsick,” she mumbled. “It happens... a lot.”
My death grip on the steering wheel relaxed. Carsick, of course. Why did my mind always jump to the worst-case scenario? “We’re almost there. Two minutes.”
We were right at the turn into Coral Castle when we hit a red light. Greyson moaned, and Nina unzipped her fun bag. “Should I give her one of these?” She held up the bottle of Dramamine.
I shook my head. “Better ask Alex first. Aren’t those the ones that make you drowsy?” I turned to Greyson. “We’re right here. We’ve only got—”
But I didn’t finish my sentence, because at that exact moment, Greyson projectile vomited and everyone screamed. It splattered onto my face, my hair, my shirt, and covered the center console of the car. Greyson lowered her face into her hands and started to cry. Nina opened my glove box and passed me a stack of napkins, and I wiped my face hurriedly.
“The light’s green!” Nina cried.
I whipped into the empty gravel parking lot and braked with a jolt. Springing from my seat, I raced around to the back of the car. Mia and Kitty had already gotten out, and I looked in at Greyson, who had her face buried in her hands.
