Page 137 of The Way I Hate Him
* * *
I walkthrough the screen door of the house, and both Ryland and Aubree look up from where they’re eating breakfast at the dining room table. They exchange glances and look back at me.
Aubree swallows her eggs and says, “Were you . . . were you outside?”
I grip my shoe and stretch out my quad as I say, “Yes, I went for a run.”
“Like . . . exercise? Outside?” Ryland asks before taking a bite of bacon.
Mac comes running into the room, her hands still wet from going to the bathroom, and she stops as she takes me in. “You know how to walk?”
Dear God, if a four-year-old is insulting me, then it was definitely time I got out of bed.
“Yes,” I say, as I reach for her, but she jumps away and goes over to Ryland, who wraps his arm around her and pulls her into a hug.
“She’s sweaty,” Mac says.
“Better than smelly,” I say.
“I can guarantee you smell right now,” Aubree says.
“Aren’t you a welcoming family?”
“We do the best we can.” Aubree takes her plate to the sink and then walks up to me. “Glad to see you out of the room. Think you could stop by the store today?”
“Really?” I ask, excited.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate it,” she says before waving to everyone and taking off.
I head into the kitchen for some water. “What was that about?”
Ryland shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. She’s a wild card.”
“She is.” I take his plate from him and rinse it off in the sink, then place it in the dishwasher. “Do you need anything today? I can run by the store or run some errands.”
Ryland shakes his head. “We’re headed over to By the Slice tonight, right, Mac?”
She nods as she ducks under the dining room table with Chewy Charles. “Yup, and we’re going to The Talkies to watchFrozen.”
I glance over at Ryland, who dramatically rolls his eyes. I think the poor guy has seen that movie at least three times a week since taking Mac under his care. Sometimes, I swear it looks like he enters a room like Elsa, chest forward, arms spread, but of course I’d never say that to him. I keep that tucked away, at least for now.
“That sounds like fun.”
“We’d invite you, but it’s just for me and Uncle Ry Ry,” Mac says as she rolls on her back, kicking her feet up in the air.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to impose on your date.”
“And Uncle Ry Ry said I can have Sour Patch Kids.”
“If you eat all of your veggies first,” Ryland says. “Don’t forget that part.”
“Piece of cake,” Mac says.
“So you don’t need me to do anything?” I ask Ryland.
“Take a shower. That’s what I need you to do.”
“Stop.” I push at his shoulder. “You’re going to give me a complex.”
