Page 36 of The Sweet Spot

You traitor. You let my brother eat our food! He stole my room.

Gracie

He’s like a cute little stray dog, Brynn. Don’t make me kick the dog.

Lindy

OMG. Did you guys hear that Lenny’s dog’s puppies are old enough to find homes?

Everly

Wait . . . Lenny is still breeding bulldogs?

Lindy

Yes! I swear instead of a cat lady, she’s going to be a dog lady. And you know Bash can’t tell her no.

Everly

I may have to work on Cross to get a puppy.

Kenzie

Cross gave you a baby. Focus on one thing at a time.

I close out of our text messages and call my aunt.

I think it’s time for a puppy.

BRYNLEE

Ishould have known my mother wouldn’t wait for me to come to her. It’s been nearly two weeks, and I’ve ignored more summonses than I can count. And maybe that’s not fair. It makes her sound like an evil queen ruling over her court with an iron fist.

That’s not her.

First of all, she’d never be caught dead with iron.

It’s platinum all the way for Scarlet Kingston-St. James.

That thought makes me smile enough to walk into my office with Winnie by my side. I ignore the fact that she’s sitting behind my desk with her legs crossed and her red-soled heel tapping against the tile floor.

“Good morning, Brynlee.” She’s doing a fabulous job of hiding the annoyance I know she’s feeling.

“Morning, Mom,” I answer as I walk around my desk and hang up my bag, then unbuckle Winnie’s collar and add a new chew toy to her bed in the corner of my office.

“What is that?” she asks, staring at Winnie.

I look down at my brand-new baby and smile. “Mother, meet Winston Churchill. Winnie, meet Grandma.”

“Bite your damn tongue, Brynlee. I’m not a grandma. We need to come up with a much better name.” She reaches her hand down and runs her palm over Winnie’s soft fur, then shakes her head. “Winston Churchill?”

I bend over and pour a bottle of water in her bowl and laugh at the way she’s curled up next to Mom’s silk pantsuit, and my God, she’s definitely leaving hair everywhere. “Yes, Winston Churchill. I’m calling her Winnie for short. She kinda looks like him, don’t you think?”

Mom laughs until Winnie starts chewing her purse. “Your aunt and the dogs. I swear. You’d think she was an animal lover when in reality, it’s only bulldogs.”

“I know you didn’t come here to talk to me about Winnie, Mom. And I need to boot up my computer so I can start my day.”

“Well, I need to talk to my daughter. So it seems if you do what I want, then I’ll be able to get up so you can do what you want. Win-win.” Her perfectly painted red lips stretch into a triumphant smile, and I have about half a second to decide whether I feel like dealing with the fallout of leaving the Revolution to work for Crucible.

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