“No,” he groans, “I’m not okay! Daisy tried to kill me with brownies!”
Daisy’s eyes flare wide, her hair flying from side to side as she shakes her head. “I didn’t.” She gulps, like she’s trying to swallow a mouthful of saltines. “Really.”
Pity flickers in me and I quickly snuff it out because she doesn’t deserve it. She did this to herself.
“Brownies?” Marnie’s brows pull together as she turns to her niece. “What’s he talking about, Daze? You don’t even cook.”
Daisy opens her mouth to explain, but Noah beats her to the punch by yelling, “She whipped up a batch of brownies this afternoonand added laxatives to them!” Another explosion comes from the bathroom before he flushes the toilet for the hundredth time.
“Noah wasn’t supposed to eat them,” Daisy whispers, glancing away.
As if that makes the situation better.
I fold my arms across my chest and scowl, still unable to believe she did this.
Apparently, Marnie agrees because she tilts her head to the side as she glares at Daisy. “Who were they meant for?”
You better believe she’s got that hairy-eyeball-parent-look down pat. The woman should be used for interrogations. I don’t know many people who could withstand one of her disapproving stares without spilling every secret they know. Hell, I’m ready to confess a few of my own, and she’s not even looking at me.
Daisy sucks her lower lip into her mouth and gnaws it. My gaze is drawn to the movement and something stirs in my gut. Actually, the stirring is much lower.
Un-freaking-believable.
This is so not the time forthat.
Marnie’s eyes widen, and her mouth falls open as she realizes the dessert was meant for me. “You made laxative brownies for…Carter?”
Before Daisy can offer up any explanations, Marnie throws up a hand, cutting her off. “You know what, I don’t want to hear any excuses right now. There are more pressing matters that need to be taken care of.” She points to the couch. “Go sit. I’ll deal with you two later.”
Wait just a minute here…
Why am I being included?
I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the victim in this situation.
More explosions rumble from the bathroom.
So maybe I’m not thevictimper se. But I was the intended victim. That should count for something.
I square my shoulders, ready to defend myself. “Ummm, can I just say?—”
Noah’s Mom whirls toward me faster than expected, catching meoff guard. “No, you may not.” She stabs a finger toward the couch. “Sit!”
“Okay, okay.” Wanting to placate her, I hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sitting.”
She gives me an exasperated look much like the one she gave Daisy and turns back to the bathroom. “Noah,” she says softly, “I picked up more toilet paper?—”
“Thank God,” he groans.
“And some Gatorade to replenish your electrolytes, along with an anti-diarrheal medicine that should help the stomach cramps.” She pauses. “I’m going to open the door and place the bag inside, okay?”
“Yeah,” Noah says on a whimper.
Marnie opens the door and stumbles back a step. “Sweet baby Jesus. That odor is certainlypungent.” With her head turned away, she sets the grocery bag on the floor inside the small windowless room and slams the door closed again. She staggers back a few paces and sucks in a deep breath before exhaling it.
Eyes narrowed, her gaze swings toward us. She plants her hands on her hips and says in a no-nonsense tone, “Whatever problems you two are having, get them solved now before someone gets hurt.”
I straighten, as does Daisy.
