“What if?—”
“Billie.”
She grumbled, but she stopped asking to touch the raw chicken.
I’d gotten better at the whole discipline thing. A few months ago, I probably would’ve given in halfway through the conversation because I was tired and desperate to keep everyone happy all the time. Somewhere along the way, Winnie had taught me that boundaries were not cruelty. Kids actually liked structure. Apparently.
Terrifying information.
The roast chicken turned out… decent. It certainly wasn’t Winnie-level incredible where everyone closed their eyes after the first bite and questioned whether thyme had healing properties. But it was edible.
I was pulling it from the oven when a shriek erupted from the laundry room. “Dad!”
Then another voice: “She tried to eat me!”
I set the roasting pan down so fast I nearly sloshed simmering chicken fat across the counter.
Billie sprinted into the kitchen, laughing hysterically while Mrs. Alvarez, our bi-weekly housekeeper, followed behind her. I’d hired her about a month ago after catching Winnie cleaning the house on more than one occasion. That wasn’t in her job description, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her continuously doing more than was asked of her. Unless, of course, themorein question involved her body against mine. Then, I would make exceptions.
“Shebitme!” Mrs. Alvarez cried, pulling me from my naughty thoughts.
“I did not,” Billie said instantly.
“You put your whole mouth on my arm!” She held her arm out and showed me the evidence. Thank God, she hadn’t broken the skin, but there were very distinct bite marks on our housekeeper’s arm.
Billie looked at me with complete sincerity. “That is technically different from biting.”
Winnie coughed into her hand to hide laughter.
“Billie.” I crossed my arms and scowled in her direction.
Billie pointed at the housekeeper. “She said I was feral.”
“You hissed at the vacuum cleaner,” Mrs. Alvarez explained.
Billie slumped against the island. “Fine. I wanted to see what her arm tasted like.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked horrified.
I crouched so Billie had to look at me directly. “We do not bite people.”
“She wasn’t using the laundry basket correctly.”
“That is still not how we solve conflict.”
“She’s fine.”
“Billie.” This time, my tone landed firmly enough that the defiant spark left Billie’s eyes.
Winnie watched from the nook, saying nothing.
Billie sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Alvarez.”
The older woman narrowed her eyes and grinned. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“Iamcharming.”
“That is unfortunately true.” Mrs. Alvarez walked back to the laundry room.
