Page 33 of Holly Freakin' Hughes

Threethoughts instantly hit me all at once.

One,how could something so little produce that much crap?

Two,how could she be giggling at a time like this?

Three,what the hell would possess a three-year-old to cover herself in poop like sometribal war paint?

“Anna,why? Why would you do this?” I pleaded with her, feeling my deliciouschocolate cake rising in my throat.

“Itwiedtocweanmy butt.”

“Well,thank you ever so much, but next time, leave that to the authorities.”

Igagged and heaved my way through the clean-up from hell, with Anna taking it allvery much in stride. The one and only time she showed the slightest bit ofresistance was when it was time for her bath, because God forbid I insist shedidn’t walk around caked in her own crap. She shrieked for forty minutes as Idumped her in the tub, and scrubbed her until she sparkled like a 21stcentury vampire.

Lizwalked into the bathroom just as I was toweling her off. “Holly, why does myhouse smell like crap? And why are you killing my daughter?” I turned to herand there was no need to speak. My eyes, my angry, angry eyes, said it all.“You know what? You obviously have this handled, so I’m just going to get thetable set. I brought home Chinese.”

***

OnceAnna was asleep and Liz had retreated to her bedroom for the night, I headed overto Reade’s to get myself a cup of tea from the café before closing time. I hadbecomepretty accustomedto the lavender Earl Grey anddecided it was only right to treat myself after the crappy hell I had beenthrough. Pun totally intended.

Iwalked through the small shop towards the café, greeted by a cheerful Billbusying himself by rearranging a display of books near the entrance. I foundBrandon sitting at a table with his laptop and a notebook, pen tucked behindhis ear. He smiled and gave me a little wave, and I took that as a signal tobother him. I pulled a chair out and practically threw myself onto the seat.

"Anotherday in Paradise, huh?" He laughed and held up his cup. "I need arefill. Earl Grey?"

Iknow I shouldn't have just assumed he would always use his connections at thestore to get me free drinks, but he offered, so I accepted. He left the tableto give Scott our order, leaving behind his open notebook and pen. Feeling alittle bold, I grasped the opportunity to take a gander at the book. I couldn'tmake out much of what had been scribbled down; the guy’s handwriting wasatrocious. But they appeared to be notes, something about a war and somethingabout swords. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him walking back to thetable and I quickly looked away from the book.

"It'sjust some research." He winked at me, and I blushed. For good measure, Iapologized for looking. "Oh, it's no biggie. Anyway, how are you doing?Better than yesterday?”

God,why did he have to bring that up? Pressing my hand into my forehead, I groaned.He apologized for rekindling bad memories, and I shook my head.

“No,it’s not that,” I began, before telling him about how I had overslept, makingmy sister late for work, and then moved into telling him about the diaperdisaster with Anna. I looked up to find an amused smile plastered on his face,as if my misfortune with the diaper was the funniest thing he had heard allday. I crossed my arms defensively over my chest. “And you find this amusing?”I scoffed.

Heshook his head, a few strands of hair falling out of place. “I’m not laughingatyou. I’m just—” He chuckled, his smile widening. “I’m just thinkingabout this one time I babysat for my best friend’s kids. His wife was goinginto labor with their third daughter, so he called me over to his place to keepan eye on the other two until he could get someone, um,morequalifiedto take over.” He looked up toward the ceiling, pushing back in his chair toteeter on the two back legs. His smile never left his face, and my God, he wasadorable.

“So,what happened?” I asked, folding my arms on the table.

“Okay,so I had very,verylimited experience with babies at the time, and theyoungest was something like a year old; the oldest was somewhere around threeor four—I can’t remember. Point is, they were little, I had no clue what I wasdoing, but I figured, how hard can it be? I just had to keep them safe untilsomeone else got there.” He leaned forward again, covered his face with hishands and groaned. “Holly, I swear to God, those were three of the mosteye-opening hours of my life. The oldest one—Lynn—had started the day off bycoloring all over the brand-newbeigecouch with a fuckingSharpieshe found in my jacket pocket. And in the three seconds it took me to noticethis had happened, Sarah crawled over to the cat’s dish and proceeded to pickaway at the food like it was the perfect mid-morning snack.” He dropped hishands onto the table. The grin had consumed his face, crinkling the corners ofhis eyes. “And that was within the first ten minutes of me being over there.”

“Youwoulddiein my job,” I laughed, suddenly feeling that my one poopincident wasn’t all that bad.

Hetook a sip from his coffee, and swallowed with another chuckle. “Hey, I’vegotten better since then. They actually like the rare occasion I watch them bymyself, so I guess I do something right.” His head shook as I secretly gushedover the idea of him hanging out with little kids. “But fuck, kids can be suchunpredictable little psychos.”

“Tellme about it. Anna freaked out the other day because I didn’tplacehercup down on the table with Minnie Mouse’s face actually looking at her. Shedropped to the floor and cried for a solid ten minutes.” I smiled at theridiculous memory then, but God, it hadnotbeen funny at the time.

“Well,duh.” Brandon crossed his arms over his chest with a convincing expression ofdisapproval, teetering on the back legs of the chair again.

“Oh,my God, shut up,” I laughed, crumpling up a napkin and tossing it at him.Brandon ducked, and the napkin landed on the floor somewhere behind his chair.“Oops.”

“Hey,come on, no throwing in my café,” Scott scolded teasingly from the baristacounter, putting a pause to his singing.

Brandonresponded by flashing him the middle finger. “It’s your dad’s café, and yourdad doesn’t care.” Scott muttered a few obscenities under his breath beforethrowing a lid over in our direction and continued his obligatory singing.

Icouldn’t control my smile as I took another sip of my tea. “So, I take it youdon’t want kids, huh?”

Brandoncocked his head, twisting his lips. “Well, no, I didn’t say that. Isaidthey’re psychotic, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t like to have a few of my ownpsychos running around.” He picked his coffee up and brought it up to his lips.“I’d have awesome kids,” he mused before tilting the cup back into his mouth.“And they’d be hilarious, because I mean, come on.” He gestured towards himselfwith that half-smile, and my ovaries ached just a little.

“Whatabout you?” he asked. “Now that you’ve washed crap off a toddler, you think youcould have your own?”

---