on my five-hundred-dollar button-down shirt, but I didn’t. This girl owned my heart, one of two in the whole world who did.
Annie sauntered in a moment later, followed by a not-so-happy, moody Sarah stomping behind her. Something was going on with Sarah. Becky, her stepmom, had said it was the beginnings of puberty, and I wanted to stay miles away from that.
“Where did you go?” My stare and my irritable tone were directed toward the babysitter.
“Six Flags Great America!” She smiled as though this were a good thing.
The theme park? Yeah, this girl is fired.
“Great. America,” I rolled the words off my tongue like it was a curse word, steady and in movie-like slow motion. I blinked and then stared at her as though she were shit I’d stepped on.
Breathe, Brad.
I didn’t even pretend this time. Pretending was long over. I had pretended the first couple of days when I arrived home from work, and they weren’t bathed. I had pretended that it was okay for them to be up at eleven when I had a late work function, and it was a school night.
But now? I was done.
Sarah was always the voice of reason, but she didn’t help the situation. “I’m the one who said you wouldn’t be okay with this. I’m the one who said it’s a school night, but Mary insisted, and every single person does what Mary says!” she yelled, making me reel back.
“I just wanted to go.” Mary pouted in my arms.
She blinked her long eyelashes at me, and I touched her button nose.
“See?” Sarah pointed. “This is exactly what I’m saying. No one wants to listen to what I have to say.”
Then, she bolted up the stairs, leaving me speechless, wide-eyed, and stunned.
Hormones. Becky said she’s going through changes. At twelve though? Isn’t that too soon?
“Uncle Brad … guess what I am. Can you tell from the paint on my face?”
Mary had two dimples, and when she smiled, she looked like an angel. An angel that never got yelled at. I could already feel my whole mood shifting into Mary Land.
I shook my head, needing to rein things in, so I placed Mary on her feet to deal with the help. “You’re a princess?”
She pouted again. “No.”
“A butterfly,” Annie smirked, sipping some of her Starbucks coffee through a straw, one that she probably charged on the credit card that we gave her to use, specifically for the kids.
The door flew open, and Mason stormed in, hands on his hips and breathless. “They’re not at the …” He stopped mid-step, taking the scene in, his eyes landing first on Annie, me, and then Mary. “Brad, I tried calling you, but you weren’t picking up.”
Mary rushed toward Mason’s side, this time charming him. “Look at me!” As though she were flying through our kitchen, she flapped her hands, using them as pretend wings. “Can you guess what I am?”
He knelt beside her and then kissed the top of her head. “Butterfly.” Then, he clutched her against him, closed his eyes, and released a long, heavy sigh for everyone to hear.
Dramatic much? With Mason, always.
His eyes flipped to mine. “Sarah?”
“Upstairs,” I said. And moody, I thought but didn’t add.
He breathed out again. “Okay. Okay.” He patted down Mary’s hair and kissed her forehead.
“They went to Great America. An hour away.” My slightly enraged smile tightened.
His still and stoic features changed. His eyebrows pulled together, and he did one very slow blink. A Mason blink. The blink that said he wasn’t a happy uncle.
He stood and then addressed the to-be-fired babysitter. “Hi, Annie.”
At least he had manners; I had to give him that.
His gaze moved to my niece, most likely excusing her to yell at the babysitter. “Mary, why don’t you get ready for bed? Did you eat dinner?”
“Yes! Cotton candy.” Her eyes widened, and she jumped up and down in sugar-induced fashion.
Mason stared at me now and then again with a slow blink and the tilt of his head.
Internally, I laughed. This girl was a goner. Fired. Off on her ass. I’d gladly let him do it because he was the calmer and more professional one. I would have just told her to get out and stalked upstairs to change out of my work clothes.
After Mary galloped upstairs, I walked toward the kitchen island and leaned against it, waiting for a show.
“Annie,” Mason began, using his disappointed tone that said I’m better than you, but I won’t make you feel like it, “didn’t you have your phone