Page 48 of The Forsaken
“Are you saying that I can’t be trusted to boil an egg?” Gabe demanded, pretending to be outraged. Quinn could hear the smile in his voice.
“I’m saying that Quinn makes it better,” Emma replied, honest as only a four-year-old could be.
“Quinn is still sleeping. She’s tired, darling.”
“Why was Quinn crying, Daddy? Was she sad?”
“Just a little bit. It’s all right to feel sad from time to time.”
“What did Grandma Sylvia do? I heard you say her name.”
“Grandma Sylvia likes to play games, and sometimes they are not fun,” Gabe answered.
“What sort of game is it?”
“The kind of game only adults can play. It’s a grown-up version of show and tell.”
“Did Grandma Sylvia show or tell?” Emma asked.
“Neither, which is why Quinn was upset. Grandma Sylvia didn’t follow the rules.”
“Rules are rules,” Emma intoned. “Miss Aubrey always says that when we don’t want to do something at school.”
“Rules are there for a reason,” Gabe said. “Here’s your egg and soldiers, and a glass of orange juice. Enjoy.”
“Can I have coffee?” Emma asked.
“What? Why would you want coffee?”
“Because I’ll be five soon and that’s what grown-ups drink.”
“I don’t think you’ll like it. It’s bitter.”
“So why do you like it?”
“Because I can’t have whisky in the morning,” Gabe joked, but it fell flat, given that his audience was slightly underage.
Quinn smiled. She loved listening to the two of them. Gabe and Emma’s relationship had come a long way in the past few months, and they had a dynamic all their own, one that she at times hated to disrupt. Quinn had her own relationship with Emma, and she hoped it wouldn’t change once the baby came.
Quinn finally got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown, and padded into the kitchen. “Good morning, you two. Beautiful day.”
“Are you done crying?” Emma asked.
“Absolutely. No more tears. See?” Quinn gave Emma a brilliant smile. “I have a very important assignment for you today.”
“What?”
Quinn took a stack of birthday invitations from the drawer and showed them to Emma. “I will put these in your backpack, and you will hand them out when you get to school. Can you do that?”
“But I can’t read,” Emma protested. “How will I know whose invitation is whose?”
“All the invitations are exactly the same, so it doesn’t matter who gets which envelope. Are you up to the task, Miss Russell?”
“Yes!”
“Excellent. Now, finish your breakfast and go get dressed. Your clothes are on the chair. I just need to speak to Daddy for a moment.”
“Promise you won’t cry?” Emma asked as she slid off her chair.
