Page 116 of One Night with Number Nineteen

“I’m busy, Mom,” I grit out. “I have a lot going on and I can’t manage your life and all the things happening in mine. If you want to talk just to talk, I can call you later. But if this is another thing where you need me to drop everything and come carry in your groceries or fix something then I can’t right now.”

A long, tense moment.

Then she asks in a wobbling tone, “Why are you being so mean?”

Guilt washes over me. “Mom, I’m not trying to be mean, but my plate is full right now.”

“Is it so hard to help your mother? I don’t ask for much.”

Laughter bubbles up in my chest, but it’s so far from amused it’s not even fucking funny. Still, I shove it down. “I’ll call you later, Mom.”

She sniffs. “Don’t bother. I’ll handle it.”

Fuck.

“Mom—”

But she’s already hung up.

Groaning, I bury my face in my hands. Then exhale and shove that aside.

Later. I’ll make it up to her later.

I have a penguin to locate and cameras to install and a woman to look after and a game to get ready for.

My mom is just going to have to handle her own life for once.

Thirty-Six

Lainey

Luna and Ollie are strolling through the back yard, my friend doing her level best to distract Ollie from the fact that stuffed Ollie is missing.

In the meantime, Veronica and Alex are helping Smitty, Ryan, and Sawyer install the cameras.

Faye and Gray are in the kitchen cooking a pregame meal for the guys.

And I’m…

Unsettled.

My team isn’t aware of any readers who’ve crossed a line in their communications, but they’re reviewing messages on my social media and in my inbox to make sure something didn’t slip through the cracks.

The cameras are going up, and Ollie was disappointed but is doing okay overall.

It helps that Alex played soccer with him for a bit, and that Sawyer hefted him onto his shoulders so Ollie could help screw in the camera in the corner of the porch.

And now Luna is making him laugh as they turn back toward me and she declares, “Three. Two. One. Go!” and takes off running.

On one.

“Cheater!” Ollie yells.

“I have to cheat,” Luna says. “You’re too fast!”

Case in point, Ollie flies by her, his face screwed up, his arms pumping hard, his little legs speeding away.

“I win!” he shouts as he careens up the porch and skids to a halt beside me and baby Reese, who’s sleeping soundly in that way babies do.