“Let my sister put shoes on.” Franklin galloped toward us, fists waving in the air.
She rained those little balled hands down on my chest.
I didn’t feel a thing.
“She had two hours to put on shoes. She chose to watch Cheaters.”
Mr. and Mrs. Townsend hovered before the landing, arguing.
Natasha covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “Oh, Shep, who cares about our reputation? Stop this nonsense right away.”
He patted her back. “You know as much as I do that Costa is her best bet right now.”
“I really hate you right now.”
Shortbread threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Don’t worry about me, Momma. I’ll be okay.”
“Oh, honey.”
More wailing, arm-clutching, and general theatrics.
I looked away.
Not because I was uncomfortable by the Jerry Springer production, but because I wanted to see through the window if the Uber had arrived.
It had.
Oliver and Zach were probably already on the plane.
“Time to go.”
Shortbread swiveled to me. “Can I at least take a book to keep me company on the flight?”
I couldn’t help but notice her face was dry and stoic. Her entire family cried behind her, but she had not shed one tear.
A strange pang of respect zinged through me.
I opened my mouth to say no, then realized she’d try to make conversation if she was bored. “Pick a classic. Your head is already full to the brim with nonsense.”
She rushed to the library and returned a minute after with Anna Karenina tucked beneath her bicep.
Shortbread made one last attempt to retrieve her shoes, but I scooped her up and hurried out the door, depositing her into the Uber before she could get away with more bad behavior.
The driver put the car into gear and pulled from the curb when the vehicle slammed against something.
Or rather, someone.
It sounded serious. What did they feed the stray cats in Georgia?
“Frankie!” Shortbread rolled her window down, heaving half her body out of the car. “Are you okay?”
Franklin banged her palms onto the hood, stopping the car. “Here!” She shoved a small suitcase through the window. “No way was I going to let you leave without them.”
So Dallas managed to escape this hellhole with clothes and undergarments, after all.
Shortbread hugged the case to her chest. “Are they all inside?”
Franklin nodded. “All of them. Arranged by date of publication.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
What?
“Henry Plotkin will keep you safe.” Franklin squeezed her sister’s hand. “House Dovetalon for the win.”
My bride spent our journey to the airport hugging her suitcase to her chest, eyes everywhere but on me.
The woman was a certified agent of chaos.
And now Oliver and Zach would see what I had to deal with.
I would never live it down.