“Can you turn it down a little?” she asked. “Just until I get this batch in.”
“Oh-tay,” Poppy said solemnly while Garbage Disposal laid down in silent protest. “But I was just getting to da drum solo.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Mommy just needs a little quiet this morning.” As she turned to grab the carton of eggs, she stubbed her cold bare toe on a pair of boots that were two sizes too small to be hers.
Hopping on one foot while holding the other, she silently cursed Harley’s name.
Either her sister hadn’t understood the meaning of “move out” or she didn’t care about Teagan’s ultimatum, because although a collection of Harley’s things had appeared at the bottom of the stairs three days ago, that was as far as they’d made it. If it took a five a.m. drum solo to get her message across, then so be it.
“Actually, you know what, sweet pea? Turn it up.”
“Really?”
She looked down at her baby, eyes bright with excitement, and her heart melted. She and Frank may have had a lot of problems, but they’d made two perfect little people who owned Teagan’s heart.
She got down to eye level and kissed Poppy’s forehead. “Absolutely.” Poppy flung herself at Teagan, wrapping her arms fiercely around Teagan’s neck. “Love you, kiddo.”
In a blink, Poppy was back at her drum set, banging out a beautiful, bold, and migraine-inducing drum solo. And Teagan couldn’t help but smile at her little dreamer.
Not a moment later, Harley strolled into the kitchen. Given the evidence of her silky ponytail, wrinkle-free top, and micro-mini yoga shorts, she’d had a blissful night’s sleep, a hot shower, and time to give herself a blowout.
The last blowout Teagan had experienced was her back tire, twenty miles north of the California border.
“Morning, Auntie Harley!” Poppy squealed, and jumped up.
“Hey, Popcorn.” Harley ruffled Poppy’s hair. “Lily Cakes.” She gave Lily a kiss on the cheek.
“Did we wake you?” Teagan asked, flashing a pleased smile.
“Nope, the universe woke me.” Harley walked toward the back door and reached for the handle.
“No, don’t open the . . .”
Too late. The door lock clicked and Garbage Disposal was off, galloping across the kitchen like a horse out of the gate, barking in delight and picking up as much speed as his feet could manage on the slick hardwood floors. His tail nearly took Teagan out at the ankle, instead making a home run with a cup of milk—which crashed to the floor, splattering white droplets everywhere.
“Sorry, little dude. Not today,” Harley said, and Garbage Disposal skidded to a stop. No jumping, no licking, none of the unruly puppy behavior he exhibited with Teagan, nothing but perfect obedience.
Traitor.
“What’s the big deal? He’s a dog. Dogs go outside from time to time.”
“This dog can run like a cheetah and eats everything. Hair ties, Christmas ornaments, he even ate a roll of toilet paper. The entire roll. Have you not heard his name?”
“What’s outside that he could eat?”
“Besides your yoga mat, flip-flops or the barbecue knobs? Anything on, near, or around the beach? Someone’s deck railing or, Lord help me, another one of my patio chair cushions. Do you know how much money I’ve spent on vet bills? He’s barely a year and I’m terrified for the girls’ college fund.” Teagan lowered her voice and mouthed, “He’s a dick.”
“Or he’s a dog doing doggie things.” Harley lowered her voice as if about to impart secrets of national security. “Maybe he just has to do his thing.”
“He already did his thing,” Poppy informed her. “Two times. One time he did number one and two. One time it was just number one.”
“You guys talk a lot about bathroom habits.”
“Have you ever potty-trained a toddler?” Teagan asked. “No? Well, I did. Two of them, actually. At the same time. Conversations are necessary for survival.”
Harley looked at her like she was crazy. And maybe she was, but wasn’t any single parent?
“If he isn’t on a leash or closely supervised, can we keep the door shut?”
