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The dogs rushed to greet me again.
“Oh! Who do you think that is?” Corey whispered excitedly.
“Bam-bam! Daddy?”
Corey snickered. “I don’t think it’s a stuffie, and I don’t think it’s Daddy. Guess again!”
“Agah!” Kyla laughed.
“Noooo, I think it’s Caaaam.”
Yeah, here came Caaaam.
I entered the living room and put on a polite smile. Corey and Kyla were buried in a blanket, sharing the main sofa, while Archie sat in one of the two cushy chairs.
“Hi!” Kyla waved, sporting a bed head I was sure matched my own.
“Hey, you.” Corey’s smile was a bit more careful.
“Hey to both of you—all three of you.” Great, now I couldn’t speak properly. “How are you? Did you cure your flixi flu?”
Archie cracked up.
Corey sucked his teeth and eyed Archie. “It’s a serious condition!”
“Of course it is, love.” Archie humored him and rose from his seat. Then he nodded for me to follow him to the kitchen. “Cam and I are gonna bake cookies. Any requests?”
At least I’d be put to use. I was definitely game.
“Macadamia, please!” Corey exclaimed. “Also, I think Sloan and Greer want oatmeal raisin!”
Yuck. I doubted that was true.
“Brat,” I said.
“Why, thank you.” He nodded in a little bow. Then he got serious. “Hey—are you okay?”
I shrugged. “Not really. Right now, I’m on the guilt train. I was angry before, not to mention miserable—well, I’m miserable now too. I’m just gonna shut up and bake cookies.”
Corey’s forehead wrinkled the more I rambled. “Why do you feel guilty?”
Kyla picked that moment to start climbing Corey, but his focus remained on me.
It was best to give him a quick response. “I don’t know—for leaving the way I did.”
Corey scrunched his nose. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s how not to leave a toxic situation when I should. You got out when you had to get out. I’m sure Master Lucian will see that, ’cause, unlike some assholes, he’s a good guy. Daddy says he’s just a workaholic who lost track of his priorities. We all do that from time to time.”
“Dada?!” Kyla practically shouted. “Dada, Daddy!”
Corey winced and chuckled. “Not now, goofball. Daddy’s at work—so’s mine, and I can say that because you’re too young to understand.” He smooched her nose. “And Dada’s gonna make us cookies!”
Daddy says he’s just a workaholic who lost track of his priorities. We all do that from time to time.
Man, I would’ve loved it if he were right.
* * *
Having a task helped, at least somewhat. Baking cookies was something I knew. I did it at home all the time. But it was a double-edged sword because it made me miss everyone at home to extreme degrees.
