“One second. Mom’s getting dressed,” she hollers.
“Holly needs something. I’ll go wake up Brooks,” Deacon says.
“I’m in here, buddy. I’ll get her,” I say, my brain clearly malfunctioning. My fuck-up becomes obvious to me the moment the words spill out, but the hard glare Lindsey shoots my way sets it in stone.
“Sorry,” I mouth.
She rolls her eyes.
“Why is Brooks helping you get dressed, Mommy?” Riggs asks.
I start hopping around the room, pulling my pants up while also wrangling my T-shirt right-side up.
“Uh, because Mommy is putting on a fancy dress. I have a?—”
“A party,” I say when Lindsey looks at me for help.
“Party!” The boys start chanting in unison. I slap my palm on my forehead, seeing my fuck-up . . . again.
“Not that kind of party,” Lindsey says, her voice harried as she bellows over her shoulder while rifling through her closet.
“What kind of party?” Riggs asks.
“Your boys are goddamn persistent,” I whisper, finally getting my shirt on the right way.
“I taught them to be curious. What can I say? Now here, help me get this up.” Lindsey has stepped into a tight blue silk gown with a slit on one side. The back is mostly lace, and there’s a zipper, which is a pretty solid cover for my story.
“Remember that church I told you I got in trouble at when I was younger?” Lindsey says.
“Yeahhhh,” one of the twins drawls. I can’t tell which one, but we’re dressed now, so Lindsey opens the door and the boys come rushing in.
“Oooooh, pretty dress, Mommy,” Riggs says, immediately leaping onto his mom’s bed. He begins jumping, and I blink rapidly, trying to erase the fact that I just ate his mom out on those sheets.
“What’s at the church?” Deacon says, still locked in on the original lie.
“They want to say sorry for punishing me. It turns out that none of it was my fault when I was a kid,” Lindsey says.
I cup my mouth to hide the laugh I’m dying to let out.
“Really? Not even the fire in the trash can?” Deacon adds.
I shift my gaze to Lindsey, who left out that little item when her parents were tattling on her. I’m actually surprised her dad didn’t mention it. He seemed to get a kick out of embarrassing his daughter.
“Yep. Not even the fire,” Lindsey says, giving me a hard stare. “Anyhow, they’re going to formally shake my hand in apology, and they asked me to dress up. So, what do you think?”
She spins slowly with her hands out, and the boys jump to hold onto her arms.
“You’re so pretty!” Deacon shouts.
So far, neither of them has asked to join her for this made-up handshaking ceremony, and before they do, I need to get myself out of this room.
“Is your zipper good now?” I say, clearing my throat.
“Yes, thank you.” Lindsey says, pulling her arms free from her twins before walking me to her door.
I’m one step away from total freedom when Riggs calls me back inside.
“Why are your underwear on the floor?”
