“You know about my paper talent.”
“No, I mean with kids too.”
Before I can ponder, a grumbling Connor arrives down the stairs. “Aunt Violet, I don’t feel too good.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s called regret.”
Violet chuckles softly and gets up off the chair to walk to her nephew. She gives him a hug, even though the guy doesn’t deserve it, then guides him to the kitchen island. “I made you a hangover cure.” Violet grabs a glass with green liquid and a bottle of tabasco sauce.
“What the hell, why do I need that?” Connor sounds horrified.
“Trust me.” She dabs a few drops of hot sauce into the glass then hands it to him.
Connor takes a quick sip then begins to gag. “I think I’m going to be sick.” He runs to the bathroom down the hall.
Violet lets a relaxing breath escape while her shoulders lower. “Works every single time. He will feel so much better after it’s all out, and then he will spend his morning cleaning up the backyard. What fun.” She claps her hands together.
Looking around, I decide I’m comfortable right where I am. “I’ll stick around… if you want.”
She walks back to me, leans down, covers Wyatts eyes with her hand, and kisses me quickly on the lips. “Let me make you a real breakfast then, because I would love if you stayed.”
Me too.
Because apparently this chaos is a side of life that I didn’t realize could be appealing, especially if it has Violet shimmying her fine ass to the kitchen to cook us eggs.
18
VIOLET
Iflop onto the couch, causing goldfish crackers to spill out of the bowl next to Wyatt who fell asleep beside Declan while they watched Cocomelon. This is a side of Declan that I wasn’t expecting to see. Hell, I couldn’t have predicted that this was how the weekend would go. I’m not sure why I called him in my moment of panic, but I felt like I could rely on him for advice or anything, and he delivered in full.
He could have rushed off by now, but instead, he’s hanging out with us, and my heart warms at the gesture. I glance outside and see Connor is finished cleaning up, as he is walking with a full garbage bag to the back of the garage.
My eyes dart back to Declan while he squeezes a tennis ball, with Puck sitting at full attention and drool running down one side of his mouth.
“I really can’t thank you enough. I know this is the last place you want to be.” I feel like I’m repeating myself, but it’s worth it.
Declan shrugs it off. “It’s fine. Ford would want me to help you out during your dire time of need. Plus, this isn’t so bad.” He leans in closer to me and lowers his voice. “I mean, have you seen the snacks in the pantry here? It’s a goldmine!”
I laugh softly, aware that Wyatt is napping, and we didn’t have the heart to move him. “That’s what happens when you have kids; your pantry becomes the key to utopia.”
Declan leans back against the sofa with a wry smile. “You’re really in your element now. I mean, the whole family thing. It suits you.”
“Really? Because I feel like I sprouted a gray hair last night.”
He finally tosses the ball for the dog who goes running. “Nah, you like the chaos. I kind of get it. I mean, you can’t get lost in your own thoughts when you have all of this around you.” He points between Wyatt and the dog, then looks for Connor.
His point of view isn’t far off. “I think you’re right,” I agree.
“Some people have career aspirations on the forefront, and others have family aspirations. You and I are opposites.”
“Hey, who says I don’t want to start a flower empire?” I protest in jest.
He gives me wide eyes. “Do you?”
I think about it for not even a second. “No. I’m happy with one store and a talking parrot.”
“Exactly, and I’m happy with anything hockey.”
