To Harley, that macramé hammock wasn’t just a hammock. It was the first thing she hung up and the last thing she took down as she bounced around the country. It made any space feel like her space, an important quality because she moved so often. That chair had been with her through some of the most difficult times of her life, and some of the best. It was her creative space—a hand-me-down from Zia Iris.
Sitting in Iris’s hammock, Harley felt not so lost. And Teagan wanted it gone. She wanted Harley gone. Which was too damn bad because Harley wasn’t ready to leave. Not until she knew how to handle the whole Bryan situation.
Bryan, who’d called her twice last night. Bryan, whom she’d sent to voice mail. Bryan, who would have the best advice on how to tackle the Teagan situation.
Good thing Harley had been handling her own business since she could walk. She lived by a strict kick-ass-and-get-shit-done attitude on life and, while she didn’t particularly enjoy confrontation, it was a playing field she knew how to navigate.
“Tee,” Harley called out. “We need to talk.”
“Take a number.”
Normally, Harley would have told her where to shove that number, if not for the sound of nuclear annihilation erupting from the second floor. Curious, Harley peeked her head into the girls’ room and experienced a small prickle of guilt.
Teagan sat on the edge of Poppy’s bed. Her lipstick was smudged, her blouse wrinkled, and she was still in the Lama-ste pajama bottoms Harley had sent her for Christmas. Which looked as if someone had bumped into her with a bouquet of strawberries. Based on Poppy’s red moustache, Harley had a good guess as to the culprit.
The Red Bandit was also on the bed, wiggling and wailing for escape, while her mom tried to wrangle her into a shirt.
“You need to sit still.”
“Buts I don’t wike pink!” Poppy yelled.
“Youlovedpink last night when we picked out your outfit,” Teagan said.
“I don’t wike nights!”
God, Harley couldn’t wait to see Teagan try to reinthatin. She’d put ten-to-one odds that Poppy was going to emerge the victor but hadn’t written off Teagan just yet. Mother of Twins looked crazed enough to pull out a win.
“Where’s my cape, Mama?”
“It’s in the dirty clothes and you need to wear your pink class shirt. Today is field trip day, and the pink shirt is standard school field trip uniform. It’s the rules,” Teagan explained as if Poppy gave a shit about the rules. “Plus, Mommy has a big meeting today so there isn’t time to find your cape. Now, hands up.”
Poppy did the opposite, her arms super-glued to her sides.
Looking a little frazzled and a whole lot determined, Teagan lowered the shirt as if waving the flag and, the moment Poppy lost focus, Teagan faked right then yanked the shirt over Poppy’s head.
One arm in, the other flapping in a fit, Poppy arched her back in an upward-facing dog pose, wailing at a pitch that only bats could hear.
Harley had opened her mouth to tell Teagan this was the universe’s way of punishing her for all her shenanigans with Harley’s hammock, when she heard someone say, “You need help with that?”
Harley looked around the room to see who was offering, surprised to discover it was her. Teagan went stock still, the girls halted, everyone frozen in time. Teagan looked over Poppy’s head and leveled Harley with a long, disbelieving look. “What did you say?”
“You just look like you could use some help. Gah!” She slapped a hand over her mouth before she offered to be a surrogate for Teagan’s next batch of twins. “With the girls.” She covered her mouth with her other hand, but it was too late. Both girls were jumping up and down, Poppy chanting, “Auntie Har-ley! Aun-tie Har-ley!”
Teagan looked at her with both wariness and hope. “I thought you were leaving?”
“I can stay.”
“What about that job you had to get back to?”
“Eh, my boss can wait.”
“Is the job even real?”
Like an arrow through the heart.
“Why do you always do that? Make me sound like a flighty idiot. And a liar.”
“You are the furthest thing from an idiot,” Teagan said quietly. “You’re the more intelligent one of us but you waste it. Jumping from job to job, running every time things get complicated. If you stuck it out, you might build some roots and decide you like it.”
