Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Absolutely,” Evelyn says eagerly, clasping her hands. “Young love makes me jealous.”
I’m grateful they’re so kind.
One step at a time. Let’s not get too carried away.
“Come on, Arlo. You can watch more later,” I say. Delly picks up his empty glass, and he reluctantly pauses his video. “Say goodbye for now.”
He submits to a happy hug from Delly and a pat on the cheek from Evelyn, and finally I make my escape. I’m hoping it doesn’t look rude to run away so fast, but the sooner I do this, the better everything will be.
“Mommy…” I’m a little distracted as I throw on my coat.
Where are you? Are you free this evening? I text Patton on our way out the door.
“Mommy,” Arlo says, tugging on my arm. “My lips feel funny.”
“Funny how?” I ask absently.
“Itchy.”
I look at him and smile.
“It’s all that orange juice, I bet, on top of the cake. Do you know it had pieces of real candied oranges in it?” A little reaction around his lips to a citrus overload wouldn’t be new.
“Why are we rushing?”
“I’d like to see Patton this evening,” I explain.
Arlo doesn’t protest as I strap him into his car seat and we set off, only to be stuck in late morning traffic five minutes later. I lean on the steering wheel, tapping against it impatiently.
“Mommy,” Arlo says from the back. “Mommy, I don’t feel good.”
I barely have time to turn around to see before orange spray bursts from his mouth, covering him in a complete mess. He lurches, more cake coming out, almost undigested.
Holy shit!
I look for a way off the road, but there isn’t one.
We’re stuck.
God.
“Hang on, sweetheart.” I keep my voice calm, unshaken, though panic sweeps through me.
I might have to put the big reveal on hold if he’s getting violently sick. He’s only had a few stomach bugs over the years, and they always hit hard and fast.
I’ll be lucky if I don’t get it. Last time, I spent two days hunched over a toilet, regretting everything I’d ever eaten for the last year.
The traffic inches along. I swing into a parking lot for a gas station, knowing I can start cleaning him up there.
“Stay calm, big guy.” My fingers are too tight on the steering wheel. “It’ll be okay. I’ll just get out, find the wipes, and get you all cleaned—”
I stop cold as I look at him again.
He doesn’t say anything.
His eyes are half-closed.
His lips are too pale and his eyes are drooping and glassy.
Is he breathing?
Panic.
My own breathing becomes a deafening roar in my ears as I fling my door open and run to his side. There’s too much sick everywhere, and the only time he moves is when he keeps convulsing, heaving himself dry.
Oh my God, no.
I start using my fingers to clear his airway, holding his head, trying not to shake.
All I can smell is rancid orange.
“Arlo?” I shake his shoulders, but his head lolls loosely. “Arlo!”
He’s still breathing, yes, but he’s not responding.
He barely seems conscious as he groans.
My hands shake like leaves, fluttering around his face. I’m probably supposed to do something to help right now, but all I can think of is the fact that he’s not freaking there.
He’s dying in front of me!
“Arlo, Arlo,” I beg, my voice choked. “Arlo. Please.”
By the time I have the wits to grab my phone and hit emergency, I’m screaming into it.
Soon, he isn’t moving at all.
22
BAIT AND SWITCH (PATTON)
The weathered brick building looks uninspiring from the outside.
There’s a balcony on the third floor with twisted iron railings that have seen better days. I let myself inside with the key and frown, taking it in.
The plan is to convert the place into a luxurious house with rustic charm, but right now, it’s a tumbledown three-story house. The hall shows off the tall ceilings, at least, with stairs leading up to the second and third floors, and the kitchen is straight ahead. I check that out first.
Dexter was the one who suggested we look at this property, and after Archer took a second look, he agreed. This is my first time here, and I bring up the floor plan on my tablet, making notes.
The kitchen seems roomy enough with plenty of counter space, but we’ll be gutting it and overhauling everything with high-end finishes and appliances.
As I move through the house, I can see why it caught their eye. The bones are good.
The place is also a steal at its current price, and although there’s a lot to do cosmetically, the structural issues are minor for a building this old.
A basic gut and renovate job.
About as good as it gets in this business.
The only thing left to decide is the décor and style, which our usual experts can help with.
The location is a unicorn. It’s a nice neighborhood, close but not too close to the city center, which means the interior should feel inviting.