Page 22 of The Path to Loving Him
“Okay.” She stares at the table. “If I were a zombie, I would have to eat your brain, Uncle Ry Ry.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not a zombie, then, right?”
“Yeah, good thing.” She smiles back at me, those eyes of hers sparkling. “Because I bet your brain tastes yucky.”
“I think any brain would taste yucky.”
She quirks her head to the side. “Then why do zombies eat them?”
I drum my fingers on the table, losing a little bit of patience because, fuck, I just want to talk to her about this and get it over with.
“You know, I’m not sure, but we can look it up later because I really want to talk to you about something. Can you give me a few seconds, then we can do all the research on zombies?”
“Promise?” She points her finger at me.
“Promise.” She nods at me like a fucking CEO in the boardroom, offering me the chance to continue. “I wanted to talk to you about our living situation.”
Her brow quirks up. “What does that mean?”
“Well, uh.” Jesus, why am I nervous? “I was thinking with Aunt Aubree and Uncle Wyatt being married now they might want more room. And since they work on the farm, I thought it might be nice for them to have the house.”
“What house?”
“Our house.”
You know that fucking cat, the one that’s supposed to be Zorro? What the hell is its name? Puss in Boots? Some shit like that. Well, you know how he takes his hat off and then offers those big glassy eyes?
That’s Mac right now.
She’s been watching that movie too much because she looks just like the damn feline, and I won’t be able to survive this conversation if she keeps it up.
“Our house?” Her lip nearly shakes as she says it.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I found another house in town, closer to school, and right across the street from the park that you love. The park with the twirly slide. It has big windows and get this . . . it’s purple.”
Her eyes widen. “The house is purple?”
I nod. “Yup, purple.”
“I like purple.”
“I know. And it has a corner bedroom with a window seat where the sun comes into the window, a perfect spot for Chewy Charles to sleep while you’re at school.”
She tilts Chewy Charles’s head and says, “Errrr?”
Knowing what has to be done, I direct my attention to the stuffie with the crooked nose peeking out of my niece’s shirt andsay, “That’s right, Chewy Charles, a whole window seat just for you.”
“I like that,” Mac says in a Chewy Charles voice that is screechy and made for nightmares.
“I’m glad because your opinion matters too, Chewy Charles. I want to make sure we are all happy about moving to a new house.”
Mac’s little nose scrunches. “What about Aunt Aubree and Uncle Wyatt? Would they move too?”
I shake my head. “No, they’d stay in the farmhouse.”
Her lips turn down. “What about my bed? And Chewy Chondra?”
“We’ll take your bed with us and Chewy Chondra.”
