Page 68 of Where Roads Lead

“I haven’t been able to start because you keep creating disasters in every room of the house,” Ava yelled up the stairs, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn she had been possessed by the spirit of Max’s nanny.

“Okay, Ava, go start dinner and I’ll hang out with Max,” I told her, knowing she’d work better with a concrete task at hand. “That sound good to you, Max?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Do you wanna watch Monster’s Inc.?”

“Sure,” I told him. “But first, we have to go downstairs and pick up all the toys.”

“I don’t wanna,” he groaned. “Mom’ll do it when she gets home.”

“Max,” I feigned a gasp, “Mom will be so tired when she gets home. Do you really want to make her do that?”

“Well, maybe that girl can do it, then.” He looked off in the direction of the kitchen. “She likes to clean. She’s been doing it since she got here.”

“Because you keep making messes.” I poked his stomach playfully.

Max laughed until the sight of the cat caught his eye, and he bounded down the stairs after it. I followed, not willing to let him get more than a few steps away from me.

“This is Buttercream,” he said, lifting the chubby animal up with some effort. Its little legs dangled below Max’s knees while it yowled for help.

“Why are Buttercream’s paws covered with paint, Max?”

“Because he has artistic instincts,” Max shocked me by saying. “Like Puh-cazzo.”

“Artistic instincts, huh?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah.” He nodded, dropping the cat with a thud. Buttercream took the opportunity to run off in the opposite direction. “Mom says I got that too.”

“You sure do, Max,” I told him, looking around at the, um, creative disasters occurring around the house.

“Hey, Elsie, do you want to take your shoes off?” he asked me, as if nothing would delight him more.

“Oh, no thanks,” I told him. “I vowed to never again feel the pain of stepping bare-foot on a Lego, so I think I’ll keep them on, just to be safe.”

“But I want you to be cozy.” His face fell.

“I’ll tell you what.” I crouched down in front of him. “You help me clean all this up, and maybe, if everything is put away, I will.”

He grinned and got straight to work.

An hour later, Max was fed, changed into pajamas, and snoring softly with a half-eaten bowl of mac and cheese balancing precariously on his stomach while the end credits of Monsters Inc. playing softly on the television.

“I hope you’re hungry for—” Ava stalled in the doorway when she noticed him curled up on the couch. “He’s asleep?”

“I think I exhausted him,” I said, looking over with a cheeky grin. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

“But I just put cookies in the oven.” Her face fell, as if not feeding him dessert would be the downfall of her career as a babysitter.

“Do you really want to fill him with sugar at this time of night?” I laughed. “We’re almost in the clear. His mom should be home soon, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, still crestfallen. “In about an hour.”

“I’ll carry him up to bed then,” I said, scooping him into my arms carefully, “and then I’ll come help you clean up in the kitchen.”

“No, please.” She held up a hand. “You’ve done more than enough tonight. I can handle a few dishes.”

She picked up the discarded mac-and-cheese bowl and left the room with an air of disappointment that almost made me feel bad for her.

All in all, the night hadn’t gone too badly, but she looked as if it had been a test she had somehow failed.