Page 136 of Clinically Delicious
My heart stopped. “When?”
“One PM.”
I looked at my watch. It was noon.
“You have one hour,” Anthony said. “Get home. Clean up. Make it look like a normal, stable household. I’ll see if I can stall them.”
The line went dead.
I stood there, phone in hand, feeling the weight of what he’d just said settle over me like a lead blanket.
One hour.
One hour to transform my house from a craft-store-explosion-slash-bakery-slash-indoor-playground into something that looked like a suitable environment for raising a child.
One hour to make sure I didn’t lose everything.
“Gabriel?” Fitz was standing now, concern written across his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Child Services is coming to my house in one hour.”
The room erupted.
“What?”
“Today?”
“Right now?”
“How much of a disaster are we talking?” Nathan asked.
I thought about the kitchen, covered in cooling racks and baking sheets. The living room, with its glitter drawings and couch-cushion fort. The dining room, with its bedsheet teepeeheld up by chairs and what appeared to be an entire bag of balloons.
“Catastrophic,” I said.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Hayden was already grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Gabriel.” He fixed me with a look. “You’re our friend. Your wife is terrified. Your daughter is caught in the middle of a custody battle. And you need help. So shut up and let us help you.”
Fitz was already heading for the door. “I’ll drive. Nathan, you’re with me. Hayden, Julien, you take Gabriel’s car.”
“What about the clinic?” I asked.
“Reschedule everything,” Hayden said. “This is more important.”
“But—”
“Gabriel.” Nathan’s hand landed on my shoulder. “We’ve got your back. All of us. Now let’s go save your family.”
The drive home took twelve minutes.
It felt like twelve hours.
Fitz drove like he was trying to qualify for NASCAR, weaving through traffic with the kind of precision that would have been impressive if I wasn’t currently having a minor cardiac event in the passenger seat.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “I always wondered what it would take for you to lose one’s shit.”
