“We don’t have to make any decisions right now,” I say, hoping to reassure her. “If we decide to do this, it’s going to be pretty disruptive. I don’t want anyone to feel like they were rushed into making a choice they didn’t really want.”
Mattie still looks worried. “How long will it take?”
I’ve poured over the plans, but I don’t know for sure. Three months? Six? I don’t want to scare anyone with the worst-case scenario, but I don’t want to mislead them either.
“It’ll take months,” I say, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “I just don’t know how many.” Harry’s expression is neutral. Mattie frowns a little, considering. Emmett looks impressed.
“Months?” he asks, eyes bugging. “Like until summer?”
Surely, it won’t take that long. Will it? “I think it’ll be done before summer’s here, Em.”
His face screws up in confusion. “Will we still be able to eat in here? And make food?”
My gut tightens. This is the reality. “Well, for some of it, yes, and for other parts, no.”
They’re all watching me. This is something, too, I’ve had to get used to. So many times over the last five months, it’s been just like this. The three of them staring up at me, looking to me for the answers. Watching me for a clue on how to behave, what to do, where to go.
Sometimes I want to look back at them and shout,What the hell are you doing?! You shouldn’t be looking to me? What do I know?
But then who would they look to? There’s no one I can turn to for all the answers, and that’s an awful feeling. They’re too young to feel that way. So I keep my mouth shut. I have to pretend I know what I’m doing long enough for them to grow up and realize no one knows what they’re doing.
“I’ve given this some thought,” I explain. “We’ll be able to keep using the fridge and microwave even if we have to move them, so we can always make cereal, sandwiches, and frozen meals. But we’ll be eating a lot of takeout.”
And just like that, all three of them relax.
I narrow my eyes at my siblings. “What? Is that a good thing?”
Harry and Mattie attempt twin deadpan looks in a way that make their twinness unmistakable. But Emmett grins outright.
“We like the nights when we have takeout,” he says innocently.
“Emmett,”Mattie hisses, glowering at him.
I put my hands on my hips. “What does that mean? The nights we have takeout?” I pin each with a glare. “As opposed to the nights I cook?”
No one speaks, but Harry and Mattie both give Emmett gimlet-eyed stares, as though daring him to open his mouth. My little brother may be young, but he’s not dumb. He ducks his chin, making himself look like he’s five instead of eight, and shakes his head.
“Well?”
I’m not the best cook in the world. I get that. But I’m not horrible. Am I?
The twins exchange a glance, and by some tacit agreement I can’t decipher, Mattie is elected spokesperson.
“Millie, we love it…” Mattie swallows visibly, and I know for certain she’s in the middle of a lie. “when you cook.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “What’s your favorite? The best thing I make?”
The twins’ eyes lock again, looks of caution and warning pass between them.
“Your pancakes are really good,” Emmett says, head bobbing with enthusiasm. I don’t need a polygraph to know he’s speaking the truth.
“Pancakes.”
Missing the flatness of my tone, he nods, delight sparking in his blue eyes. “I could eat ‘em every day.”
I raise a brow. “Thank you for that, Emmett,” I say dryly. “But Bisquick really gets the credit for pancakes. I just add water to the Shake ‘N Pour bottle.”
Without turning his face from me, his gaze flick up to the twins, a sure sign he’s realizing he should have kept quiet. His lower lip buds as he looks at the floor.
