Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Great.
“I know, buddy, I know.” Where was Rip? “I’m just gonna put your sister on the couch to sleep—”
“I wouldn’t,” he warned just as I tried to lay her down, only to have her eyes burst open with tears.
“Hey, it’s OK, it’s—”
A wail from the pit of hell escaped from between her tiny lips as I tried to bounce her up and down and hush her.
Ben continued to bang his head into the chocolate sauce.
A trickle of sweat ran down my back as I took in the complete chaos.
Panic rose in my throat as I held Viera close and walked back into the kitchen. OK. Breakfast it was. Now all I needed was a pan to toss the eggs into, multiple shots of espresso, and prayer beads.
“Buddy, where did your—” Don’t say mama… don’t say mama. I closed my eyes against the tears that had immediately sprung to my eyes just thinking of Monica. “Where are the pans, do you know? Could you maybe—”
With a dramatic sigh Ben hopped off the barstool and slowly made his way over to where I was standing, then pulled open a drawer. “You use the flat one.”
I gritted my teeth. “Thanks.”
“Aunt Colby, do you even know how to make an egg?”
“Of course!” I lied. I rarely cooked. My DoorDash app was constantly running and open. I embraced food delivery apps the way most people embraced religion.
With fervor.
Dedication.
And loyalty.
While my job might have been to visit crazy destinations and eat at five-star restaurants, it also meant I was rarely home to cook, and while I was a great judge of food and locations, a chef I was not.
Viera’s wails turned into soft cries as she rubbed her eyes.
I bent down and grabbed the pan—the flat one that the five-year-old master chef had pointed out—and set it on the stove, then flicked on the gas.
Nothing happened.
Ben sighed again.
Viera turned to watch in interest.
Thank God she’d stopped crying.
“Why is nothing happening?” I mumbled under my breath.
Ben rolled his eyes.
“Hey, no attitude.” I pointed the pan at him, then set it down on the counter and tried the knob again. The flame finally caught, scaring the crap out of me, causing me to jump and Viera to drop her dragon directly onto the burner.
It went up in flames immediately.
“Oh God!” I yelled. “Fire extinguisher! Where’s the fire extinguisher!”
“Nine-one-one! Nine-one-one!” Ben shouted over and over again as he stopped, dropped, and rolled.
“You’re not on fire!” I yelled. “Bugsy is!”
“Bugsy!” Viera screamed. “You kill Bugsy!”
With Viera still in my arms I searched the cupboards as both kids started screaming for me to save Bugsy.
I was about to call the fire department when I was shoved out of the way by a shirtless Rip. He held the extinguisher over the stove and sprayed white foam over the flaming dragon.
The fire was out instantly.
“You killed him!” Viera sniffled again. “He tail!”
“S-sometimes dragons lose their tails…,” I said lamely. “I’m so sorry, Viera, it was an accident, why don’t we go out today and get you a new Bugsy.”
Her response was a shriek that nearly shattered my eardrums.
Rip moved past me again and washed Bugsy off in the sink.
“He’ll have a few burned spots, sweetheart,” he said softly. “But sometimes dragons get hurt. But they breathe fire, so he’s not scared. He’s OK.” He held poor scorched Bugsy out to her. “See?”
A tear slid down her cheek and she screwed up her face again. I braced myself for another eardrum-shattering shriek, but what came out of her mouth was worse.
“I want Mama.” She said it on a sob that was half hiccup, and I felt my heart drop to the floor.
“I know.” Rip’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and for a moment I almost felt compassionate toward him. And then.
“Please tell me you know how to at least work a stove and this was an accident brought on by sleepwalking, stress, day drinking—” The look he gave me was one of pure annoyance at my inability to use a stove and multitask.
“I do!” I argued. “Ben’s starving and he wanted a few eggs so I grabbed the pan—”
“I found it for her,” Ben announced.
Little traitor.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Anyway, I was doing things one handed because Viera was crying and I was just trying.” I took a breath. “I am trying, Rip.”
His green eyes flashed before he muttered, “Try harder.”
I’d nearly forgotten about the casseroles people had dropped off the day before until he turned exactly where I didn’t want him to. Exactly where I’d placed the carton of eggs next to the stove. “Are these for breakfast?”
“Um… see, I have a good reason for them all being out.” I was going to have to lie, then somehow manage to make a billion casseroles during Viera’s nap. There was no way I was admitting I fell asleep and left them out all night.