“He’s doing a fine job.” Wade squeezes my shoulder as he makes his way over to the cupboard where the glasses are kept. It shuts Nathan up.
I’ve always appreciated my father-in-law’s support. Unlike his wife, I’ve had it as long as I’ve known him. He’s a man of few words, but the ones he does say are always encouraging.
“Thanks,” I tell him as Emma slips back inside at the same moment the next circuit of tag rushes through the kitchen, kicking up the volume another ten notches. Five kids and five adults all stuffed into one small space; I already feel my sanity slipping. At the first vibration of my phone, I pull it from my pocket. Todd’s picture pops up on the screen.
“I’ve got to take this.” I shake kids from my pant legs and dodge out of this hell hole. When I break into the hall, I answer. “Todd?”
Another child-like scream belts from the other room. I press my hand against the opposite ear to block the noise and march farther down the hallway. I stop once to look at the device and make sure the call is even connected. I can’t hear anything, so I punch the volume button a few times. “Hello?”
“Rhett—I—Monday.” His voice sounds like it’s coming through a wood chopper.
Dammit.Not this again. It’s been six weeks since it’s happened andyearsbefore that.
“I can’t hear you, man… Todd?”
The call disconnects and a text pops through seconds later.
TODD: I’ll call you Monday to discuss the details.
Well, that was helpful.
Even though I’m the one who told my label I needed a break, I didn’t mean a month and a half and a move across state lines. They didn’t either. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to the concern creeping in. I’m hopingI’ll call you Monday to discuss the detailsmeans they’ve decided to reinstate my tour.
“Ev, where do you keep the crayons? They’re not in the junk drawer like they used to be.” Emma interrupts my thoughts.
“What?” I pull my eyes from the dark screen and look up at her.
She enunciates. “The crayons.”
“Oh, uh… I don’t know, Em. In the study, maybe?”
“Really?Coloring?That’sthe activity that was planned?” Caroline complains as I step back into the baboon exhibit known as the kitchen.
“Quinn likes coloring,” I announce to the whole room, so she doesn’t think it’s directed at her.
Take that, Caroline. At least I got one of her interests right.
I shuffle through the Albertson’s sack for the stack ofBlueycoloring books.
Wade slides his palm across the counter, his forehead tipped low like I’ll bark at him if he doesn’t speak softly. “Quinn keeps saying something about bug pictures?”
That’s the thing about toddlers. They change their minds every two seconds, and apparently, this is now a bug-themed party thanks to Caroline’s damn cupcakes. I’m supposed to screw these coloring books. Got it.
“I’ll go get them.” I act like they’re ready to go on the printer and make a break for the hallway.
Emma brushes by me. “Found the crayons in the hall closet.”
“How could I forget,” I grumble.
I typebug coloring pageinto the search engine and print the first collage it finds. The LaserJet printer spits out ten copies as a mob of children tackle me for a page. I give Quinn the one on top.
“To-To, woot! A waeybut! See?”
“That’s a fly, honey.” Caroline frowns. Quinn almost trips over a sneaker as she runs with her paper fluttering above her head. Caroline stalks after me as I collect the trail of hazardous shoes in a path to the front door.
“Everett, I think Quinn’s behind,” she says.
I look over my shoulder, expecting to find Quinn hiding in an unsafe crack of a door. She’s perfectly content at the kitchen table.
