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None of this is, and I have no intention of adding her to my plate when I have real discipline to dole out to Colt and his crew.
“We’ll talk soon,” I promise.
She gives me a shy little half wave, my cue to go.
Fucking finally.
The kids are waiting in the car, talking nervously among themselves. Their lips stop moving the second they see me coming.
Colt, he’s up front with me, and the other two are strapped in the back.
Without hesitation, I start the engine and back out of the driveway, feeling three pairs of eyes drilling into my head.
“We’re super-duper sorry, Dad. Honest,” Colt says, twisting his fingers on his lap.
“…are you really gonna tell my mom?” Evans asks in a small voice.
“You bet your ass I will. And your father, Briana. It’s not personal, it’s just what I do.”
She scowls like I just told her to wipe off her makeup, but I don’t give a shit.
That’s what dads are for—to be the stonehearted voice of reason teenagers won’t appreciate until they’re ten years older.
Truth be told, I think I’ll be pissed for a while too, whatever Winnie wants be damned.
If there’s no spouse, then she probably doesn’t have kids.
She doesn’t get what it’s like.
Sure, she might be trying to play it cool, but she called this in. I have no doubt she was freaked in the moment, whatever she thinks now.
And with fireworks popping off next to miles of woods in a midsummer drought, these jokers could’ve ignited an inferno that would’ve needed the National Guard called in to put it out.
Besides, it doesn’t make sense that she’s trying to play it off like nothing happened. She’s the one who made the big deal about it in the first place.
Not to mention the cake, the dress, the nagging mystery of what she’s up to.
Something’s going on back there, no question.
As I drive through the darkness in stony silence, my gut screams that tomorrow won’t be the last time I talk to Winnie.
I should keep an eye on her.
Just in case.
3
NO QUEEN BEE (WINNIE)
Chocolate, the purest way to a woman’s heart.
As a nice bonus, it’s a great pain reliever, too.
I’m talking magic cure-all for being dumped, losing out on your dream job, and yes, even when you flee your own wedding and the raging dumpster fire of insane consequences.
The highest rated bakery in Kansas City is The Sugar Bowl, and by God, it’s good. In the day I’ve been here, after throwing out the remainder of the wedding cake I never want to see again, I’ve eaten my own weight in sugar.
On their website, they offer these fun local packages you can get delivered.