Which was good because it wasn’tthatbig of a deal.
“Everything’s fine, baby,” Em whisper-yelled down the street. She didn’t want to wake the neighbors. You know? “Go back inside. I’ll be right there.”
She would be once she dealt with this whole situation successfully.
Now was the time to stand tall and deal with things. She was going to deal-the-shit out of this situation. Yes, she stood taller. She was not the Em of yesterday who let the world roll right over her. No, she was doing this life thing right and not hiding anymore.
This was her fault. Look at her owning it. Owning all her mistakes.
“Should I call 9-1-1?” Fiona yelled back. “Grandpa always says to dial 9-1-1 if there’s a fire.”
“No, babycakes, this is like a campfire. We can sing songs and roast marshmallows next time I take out the trash.” Lying to her kid? She shouldn’t do that.
“Are you going to use the hose soon?” Fiona yelled again, but at least she stayed at the front door. “Or should I find marshmallows?”
“I’ll be right back inside soon,” Em assured her. “See if you can find the marshmallows I bought at the store.”
Please, dear goodness, go inside.
Blessedly, with the promise of midnight marshmallows, her daughter went inside.
Deep breaths, Em. Deep. Breaths.
She hopped from foot to foot like she was a boxer getting ready for the ring instead of a new homeowner ready to put out a fire at precisely the correct moment.
“The fire brigade is on the way,” a man yelled from up the street.
Well, damn.
Hopefully, that fire crew would not include her dad.
Dear God, let it not be my dad.It couldn’t be her dad. The universe wouldn’t figuratively screw her that hard.
Would ’fessing up to the situation be an admission of guilt? She should probably talk to an attorney before she made another mistake. Did divorce attorneys handle accidental arson via vibrator?
She should google the melting point of silicone. That’s what she should do. She had a few minutes of time. The average response to this neighborhood was three minutes and twenty-seconds. See? She knew her Denver fire trivia.
“Grab a hose, mate,” the guy hollered from down the road.
Was that an accent he had? Sounded sort of British. But not British.
A bit like those Hemsworth boys—the Chris and Liam guys.
Australian!
“I have a hose,” she yelled back.
The hose she was prepared to use once the garbage was good and destroyed. Not one moment before.
“Then use it,” the man yelled, coming closer.
Nuh uh. Not yet.
“Why aren’t you using it?” the man asked, breathless from sprinting up the street and getting closer by the second.
Oh hey, he was a cutie pie.
“Use it,” he hollered again.
