What if we can’t clean it up in time?
What if they take one look at the chaos and decide I’m not fit to raise my own daughter?
“Gabriel.” Fitz’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Breathe. We’ve got this.”
“You don’t know what it looks like in there.”
“Then let’s find out.”
I unlocked the door.
And immediately understood why Dante had needed nine circles of Hell. Because this was definitely one of them.
The entryway was covered in shoes—Megan’s light-up sneakers, Cate’s running shoes, and my dress shoes that had somehow migrated from the closet. There was a coat rack that appeared to be wearing more clothes than it was designed to hold.
The living room was worse.
The couch-cushion fort was still standing, somehow defying both physics and common sense. Glitter drawings covered every available surface, the coffee table, the side tables, taped to the walls in a display that looked like a preschool art gallery had exploded.
There were books everywhere. Toys scattered across the floor. A tea party setup on the coffee table, complete with plastic cups and saucers and what appeared to be actual cookies.
The dining room featured the teepee, an impressive structure made from bedsheets, chairs, and approximately forty balloons. Inside, I could see pillows, stuffed animals, and what looked like a flashlight.
And the kitchen.
Oh God, the kitchen.
Every surface was covered in baked goods. Cookies on cooling racks. Muffins in tins. What appeared to be three different types of bread. A cake that was either chocolate or had been burned beyond recognition. The sink was full of dishes. The counters were dusted with flour. There was a mixing bowl on the floor that had apparently been claimed by some kind of baking-related disaster.
“Holy shit,” Nathan breathed behind me.
“Yeah,” I said.
“This is...” Hayden trailed off, apparently unable to find words.
“Catastrophic,” I finished. “I told you.”
“Where are Cate and Megan?” Julien asked.
As if on cue, I heard laughter from upstairs.
Then Cate’s voice: “Okay, but if we’re going to have a fashion show, you need to let me do your hair properly.”
“Can I wear the sparkly dress?”
“You can wear whatever you want, sweetie.”
More laughter.
They had no idea Child Services was coming.
They had no idea that in forty-three minutes, someone was going to walk through that door and judge whether this house—this chaos—was suitable for raising a child.
“Alright,” Fitz said, clapping his hands together. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Nathan, you’re on living room duty. Get those cushions back on the couch, collect the toys, take down the drawings carefully, because we don’t want to upset Megan. Hayden, you’ve got the dining room. Dismantle the teepee, fold the sheets, deal with the balloons. Julien, kitchen. Start with the dishes, then clear the counters. I’ll handle the entryway and make sure the rest of the house looks like something to gander at.”
“What about me?” I asked.
“You’re going to go upstairs and tell your wife that Child Services is coming in forty-three minutes and she needs to make herself and Megan fit for royalty.” He paused. “And, Gabriel? Try not to freak her out more than she already is.”
