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“What’s a duber?” Peter asked, joining in on the skepticism.
Blake choked back a laugh at the mispronunciation. “It’s like a taxi.”
“An ice cream taxi?” Kinsley asked,
eyes wide.
“Sort of. Think of it like pizza delivery, but different.” Blake glanced at his watch. “I’ll call now, but then you have to hurry. We’ll have twenty-five minutes to get this place cleaned up, or they won’t come in. Uber people don’t like messy living rooms,” Blake added for good measure.
Maybe sugar as a reward wasn’t the best way to accomplish order, but he needed something. He’d think up other possible rewards and bribes and games for the rest of the week, but for now, he was getting the job done.
All last week, he left the house completely wrecked, and after this morning, it was clear Mel was stressed and putting pressure on herself with this new job. Blake remembered what that was like—the feeling that you had no room to fail, that people relied on you other than yourself. And for some reason he couldn’t explain, he wanted to ease her burden. Coming home to order, instead of chaos, seemed like as good a start as any.
He headed out into the living room, with the three of them scurrying to follow.
He set the timer on his watch, and when he yelled, “Go!” They were off like a starting gun, whipping around the room, picking up toys and crayons and paper.
Blake smiled as he sat back and watched. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this manny thing, after all.
CHAPTER NINE
MEL
Despite her day going well, by the time Mel got off the subway and climbed the stairs to her tiny apartment, she was all but ready to collapse into bed. But her day wasn’t over. A bottle of wine, dinner in front of the TV, and bed would not await her because getting home meant more work.
The house was likely a wreck, so she’d have to spend the evening cleaning. There was dinner to make, baths to be had, dishes and laundry to do. Rest and relaxation weren’t an option. Usually, she didn’t have a moment to herself until the Triple Threat went to bed. By that time, she all but flopped into a heap of exhaustion next to Kinsley, opened a book to read, and subsequently fell asleep.
So when she burst into her apartment and found it spotless and quiet, she about fainted of shock. Turning, she did a double-take at the number on her door, ensuring she hadn’t somehow entered someone else’s apartment. Once it was confirmed this was, in fact, her home, she stepped inside and took in her surroundings again.
There wasn’t a toy in sight. Everything was stacked in the wicker toy bins. The surface of the coffee table was visible—a rare sight—and there were fresh sweeper lines on the carpet. Only one scenario was possible. Someone broke into her place, stole her kids, and now they were hijacking her apartment.
A burst of laughter came from the kitchen, drawing her attention. Brady, Peter, and Kinsley all sat at the little kitchen table with Blake, chatting and laughing. Each of them wore a tin foil hat on their head, including Blake, which made her chuckle under her breath.
In their preoccupation with whatever was in the bowls in front of them, they hadn’t even noticed she had come home. Stepping closer, she cleared her throat. “Hi, guys.”
“Mom!” they all yelled in unison.
They jumped up, and all three hugged her legs like baby koalas, clinging to her even as she walked further into the modest space. On closer inspection, two cartons of ice cream sat in the center of the table, along with a dozen assorted sundae toppings.
“We’re having ice cream!” Peter yelled, then dove back into his chair and shoveled a giant spoonful into his mouth as if to prove his point.
“It’s chocolate,” Kinsley said.
“Mine’s vanilla,” Brady chimed in.
“I see that.” Mel glanced at Blake, in awe.
Blake held his hands up, then he must’ve remembered the foil hat on his head because he swiped it off, looking a bit sheepish as he said, “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have, but it was a reward for cleaning up, and . . .”
He thinks I’m mad. The thought was so comical, a bubble of laughter spurted from her chest. Covering her mouth with her hand, she stopped and shook her head, glancing around her again. “No. Thank you. The place looks great.”
Blake exhaled and slumped in relief.
“Can Mommy have ice cream?” Peter asked.
“Of course, she can.” He turned his dark gaze on her and raised a brow. “You want to have some ice cream, Mom?” he asked, grinning.
“I would love some.” Suddenly, she wasn’t so tired anymore.
