Given that the kids were all occupied, and no one new was bleeding in the past fifteen minutes, whatever Harmony’s fee had ballooned to was worth every penny.
The front door to the house opened, and a whole gaggle of women poured themselves through the entryway.
“Whoa,” Rachel said, her voice traveling all the way to the kitchen.
“Hey ladies,” Travis said. “You’re back early.”
“We sort of had to when we got the call from Jack looking for sutures,” Yelena said, but the light lift to her voice showed she found the fact that Travis needed the kit amusing.
“They cleaned,” Simone said with awe. “Like, a lot.”
Yeah, they’d sort of been forced into that, what with furniture polish coating most of the tile, the glass shards everywhere, and Travis’s blood all over the place.
Yes, the sock and furniture polish version of a Slip ’N Slide had been Jack’s suggestion. Yes, he had regretted it. No, he didn’t particularly want to dive into the specifics of who did what and when.
Though it should be noted that Harmony had been opposed to this suggestion. It should also be noted that she had gone along with it anyway in the end, because they’d all had a pretty killer time. Until the vase broke, and Travis bled all over the place. Then Harmony gave them a dressing down about roughhousing inside that was truly inspired.
He had a feeling she’d gotten the ability to put them in their place straight from her mother.
Rachel sauntered into the kitchen.
“How did it go?” Jack asked, patting her on the back as she strolled to Travis.
“I think I am out entirely too late on a school night,” Rachel muttered, heading straight for her husband. “How bad is it?”
Travis grimaced a little too dramatically—if Jack had to say—before letting her inspect the bandage. “We owe April a vase.”
“Which vase?” April asked, testing the tile in the kitchen before fully committing to her step. That was a good call, because thirty minutes earlier, it’d been slippery as all hell.
“Purple one,” Travis replied.
Even Jack knew that description didn’t help much. Everything in April’s house was purple.
“The one by the stairs.” Jack gestured to the now-empty, also broken, pedestal thing at the bottom of the staircase.
April stared at the vacant pedestal for a beat too long.
“Was it special?” Jack asked, suddenly feeling like a total tool for the hand he’d had in breaking it.
April lifted her shoulder a touch. “Don’t worry about it.”
Hewasgoing to worry about it. Judging by the expression on Travis’s face, he was going to worry about it, too.
“More importantly: what’s the story with the cat?” April asked, her words oddly cautious. Like she was sticking her toe on the tile to ensure she wouldn’t fall on her ass, but in word form about the cat.
“Yeah.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks, already making plans to hit up Buckle and grab a few pairs of jeans for while he was in town.
Turned out taking care of kids was hell on a good suit.
His button-down wouldn’t be the same since Lola used him as a napkin for her ketchup dinner.
Less than two weeks toPractical Parenting. Not a ton of time, and he could handle anything for a couple of weeks. Then he’d be back in his Los Angeles apartment where his shirts were safe.
“Seriously. The cat?” April asked, scratching at her temple.
Jack jerked his chin toward the top of the stairs. “He’s in your room.”
And he hadn’t gone very willingly.
