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Her laughter fills the air. “Of course,” she replies, offering a smile that seems a bit too forced for comfort. “I don’t mind watching Milo past the agreed upon time, but could you give me a heads-up next time?”
It’s already twelve-thirty, and I’m half an hour late. In my defense, I did mention that my shift ends at noon, and my home is just a five-minute walk away. “Absolutely,” I reply. “I’m grateful you stayed and didn’t leave him alone.”
Granted, I’m not perfect, and sometimes my inner passive-aggressive side takes the reins. Jani has left Milo on his own more than once, and it seemed like she was about to do it again.
Her laughter tumbles out, shattering over me like shards of glass. “Oh, Charlotte.” She sighs, leaning on the worn iron railing. “Are we still on for Wednesday? You’re hosting this time, right?”
My excitement sparks like the fizzy sensation of popping candy from the 90s. “My favorite day of the week.”
“Wine about it Wednesdays.” She pushes off the railing, her demeanor lightening. “I’m bringing a bubbly white this week.” She winks playfully and swivels around to reach for the door. “Simon, let’s go!”
That’s my cue to duck out of this conversation. “Take care.” My hand lands on the door, and I grip the knob.
“Oh my gosh, Charlotte!” Jani calls once more.I was so close.Some days, I don’t mind talking to people, but today, it feels as though everyone is trying like hell to keep me from my little brother. “How did the custody hearing go?”
“I will fill you in on Wednesday,” I say over my shoulder and barrel through my door, knowing she will take it however she chooses.
I push the door shut behind me and lean against it, a sense of relief washing over me for escaping what felt like a draining interaction with an energy vampire. Maybe Tatum is onto something, and I should consider distancing myself from Jani’s constant demands on my attention.
“Milo!” I call out, unwrapping my scarf and hanging it on the hooks to the left of the door. I slip my shoes off, and my hat and coat follow suit. My purse lands on the bench with a thud.
The living room is silent, the television screen blank. Only a gentle, warm glow emanates from a single lamp in the corner, casting soft shadows around the room.
“Milo?” I repeat, my gaze darting up the wooden staircase that leads to the darkened second floor, then to the kitchen and mudroom.
A surge of fear prickles within me, coating my tongue with a tang of adrenaline.
He’s fine, I remind myself, straining my ears for any sound.
Milo isn’t your typical eight-year-old. He’s kind-hearted and brilliant, often getting lost in his thoughts. He’s been known to become so engrossed in something that the rest of the world simply fades away around him.
Once, when he was much younger and our parents were still alive, we “lost” him in a way. Family dinners were a big deal to our parents. One evening, after we finished dinner, Milo vanished from sight. The house grew quiet, and our calls for him escalated into frantic yells. An hour passed, and still no sign of Milo. Panic gripped us, and my mother was on the phone with the police when I heard his tiny giggle coming from the living room. He had hidden himself in the blanket bin beneath the covers.
Milo, then just two years old, decided he wanted to play hide-and-seek without informing anyone. I was eighteen at the time. The experience was enough to convince me that I didn’t want children of my own. The fear and panic I felt that night were unlike anything I had ever experienced. Little did I know that we would lose our parents just a month later.
A slight thud from upstairs interrupts my thoughts, and I quickly ascend the stairs, my feet landing on every creaky step and announcing my approach. Milo rushes out of his room, standing hesitantly in the doorway.
“Lottie,” he greets me, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. He doesn’t particularly like his glasses, but I find them endearing. We agree to disagree on that point. “You’re back.”
With my arms folded, I give my mischievous younger brother a stern look. “You’re up to something.” I glance past him toward his room, but he hastily shuts the door behind him and steps into the hallway.
“No,” he replies, his gaze holding mine. His brows knit together slightly, creating an adorable crease on his forehead. His straight, dirty blond hair sticks out in various directions.
“What are you hiding?” I narrow my eyes at him, momentarily forgetting about our plans for the day and the fact that we should already be on the road.
“Nothing. I wouldn’t keep anything from you,” he claims, though a small twitch near his eye exposes the lie. I’ll give him a five-second grace period before he will inevitably succumb and spill the truth.
However, he doesn’t need those five seconds. A faint, feeble meow drifts out from his bedroom, revealing the secret he’s been trying to protect.
“Milo,” I hiss, my patience waning. “Please tell me you didn’t hide a kitten in your bedroom.” I close my eyes briefly, inhaling deeply to regain my composure.
“I can’t say that, Lottie,” he responds in that gentle, innocent voice of his.
“Jani didn’t warn me.” I open my eyes and focus on my younger brother. He’s dressed in a baby blue knit shirt tucked into khaki pants, a look that gives him an air of a young scientist…or perhaps a mad scientist, given the current situation.
“She didn’t know,” he reasons. “Just hear me out.”
I press my lips together, fighting back a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Milo’s unique brand of child logic has introduced me to a world of unconventional reasoning that continues to surprise me.
