Page 41 of The Dating Charade

Cassie listened and combed as Kennedy gave her four-year-old summary of each page, throwing in additional bits and pieces totally unrelated to the story. She listened until Deidre’s head was entirely combed and braided in five separate sections—a foolhardy move for which no amount of blog posts could give her adequate talent. When Star came in from her shower, she laughed at Cassie and pointed at Deidre’s head for five minutes. Then she took pictures and sent them to Bailey, Keely, and Cam—who Cassie had heard was now somewhere in Florida. Cam, of course, wrote something cheeky back.

Cassie never once looked at the drawer while sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Star teach by demonstration as she rebraided Deidre’s hair with fingers so nimble she didn’t have to look.

Cassie waited an hour after the girls had been tucked in bed and then found her way back to the room. She cracked open the door, the light of her phone guiding her to the bedside table. Quiet as a mouse, she opened the drawer and set to work. She scraped bowls’ worth of macaroni from the interior wood, three slimy hot dogs, two pieces of quiche, empty yogurt cups, half of one old chicken breast. Dipping her rag in cleaning solution, she scrubbed the interior and dried it with towels. Then, legs going numb from her awkward squat, she restocked the drawer with a box of Triscuits, cheese crackers, animal crackers, and a zipped-up bag of dried fruit. Tomorrow she’d see about finding some pepperoni sticks, which Deidre loved.

As Cassie crawled into bed, she tried to imagine what it would be like to live like them, tried to prepare herself to anticipate issues like this that could come down the road. They were little girls, yes, but they were also little warriors, always looking up to their mighty big sister who, in certain lights, proved still so small herself. Having no answers, only guesses, about the future. Right now, all the three of them knew was that they were here today. But what about tomorrow? They could be stripped from her, from their schools, teachers—everything—tomorrow. And they, she, all of them, were powerless to do anything about it.

Tomorrow.

For their sakes as much as hers, Cassie was going to get some answers tomorrow.

12

Jett

“Hurry up, man. Little Dude is peeing on my chair!”

“I can see that, Sunny, thank you,” Jett said tersely, flapping out what felt like the fifteenth diaper of the morning. The diaper wasn’t unfolding, however, and with his other hand wrapped around TJ’s feet, Jett was powerless to cover the baby’s bottom. TJ wailed, grinding on Jett’s ears—ears that hadn’t touched a pillow for more than four hours at a time in days. This included the night prior when he’d had the joy of dropping five hundred dollars at the ER so some resident doctor could pop a piece of pickle out of Dakota’s nostril. It took a sum total of twenty seconds, with three hours of paperwork and waiting.

This was why family men got fat. It wasn’t that they were lazy—as was made clear by the fact Sunny was lounging, feet up, on the recliner while Jett scrambled on the carpet. The small humans just sucked out all the dad’s energy. Like vampires. It was their lifeblood.

“Dude!” Sunny pointed as TJ wailed and let loose another fountain of urine, this time making a perfect arch onto Sunny’s shoes.

“If it bothers you so much, get up and help!” Jett shook the unyielding diaper.

Dakota came around the corner, one hand clutching a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich. Barefoot in pajamas, her long, blond hair was wound up on top of her head with a rubber band. She impatiently held out a finger, pushed it to Jett’s face.

“Not now, Dakota.”

“Little man’s making that face!” Sunny lifted his legs up suddenly, as if TJ could reach him. “He’s making the gonna-blow face!”

Sure enough, TJ’s expression had turned beet red and pouty. In seconds the carpet that was already starting to be covered in splotches of juice stains and diaper fails would get another murky addition.

Not this time. With a determined shake, the diaper finally cracked open. Jett dropped TJ’s ankles and pushed it beneath him.

Dakota pushed her finger back in Jett’s face, blocking his view. Despite Jett dodging her digit while trying to get TJ covered, she persisted.

Finally, he gave in and kissed it. “There.” For whatever invisible boo-boo it was. “Better?”

Dakota brought her finger close to her eyes, examining it seriously while Jett strapped on the rest of TJ’s diaper. Once done, Jett wiped his brow, feeling the intensity of the moment lessen.

“Nope. Still poopy,” Dakota announced and pushed her finger back in Jett’s face.

“What?” Jett’s arm shot to the wipes and he then rapidly began wiping at his lips. Sunny started to cackle. Obviously disappointed in Jett’s parenting skills, Dakota disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Why in the world did people opt to have kids? Seriously.

Of course, that wasn’t a question he was going to be allowed to ask at his meeting with Rachel Henderson, DCS child specialist, this morning. Nor would it be beneficial to express the uncouth tone and choice words currently shouting in his head.

He picked TJ up and stood—just in time to hear a crash in the kitchen. Thankfully, just as he felt his sanity slipping, a mild knock came from the door and Sarah peeked her head in. The smile on her face pulled him back from the ledge. She held up a basket. “Blueberry muffin for the road?”

Jett gave his lips another wipe. “You are a lifesaver, Sarah. Thank you.”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s a big day for you.” The basket swung in front of her. “And Sunny and I will make absolutely sure that no more pickles go up anybody’s nose. Right, Sunny?”

Sunny scrubbed pee off his shoes. “Yeah.”

Though it was absolutely uncalled for, Jett could still see the guilt lingering in her eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal, Sarah. Really. It took less than a minute for them to get it out.” He smiled good-naturedly, all the while trying not to think too hard on the memory summed up in three words: tears, chaos, money.