Page 62 of Mase
The women’s screeches ring out in my ears, and I rush to grab the donkey. Who knew these things could run?
Shaw steps in front of it and grabs the rein, and the tension I was holding slips away.
The women erupt into cheers, and I roll my eyes. Not a single one of them has moved an inch.
“Cake!” Eleanor screeches, and Shaw lifts her from the donkey.
“I was only gone for five minutes,” he declares, surveying the destruction while placing Eleanor on the ground. More like forty-five.
“Helll-p,” Tate groans, and I spin to face him on the ground, cupping his balls. “Hurts.” Oh shit, I think he’s genuinely in pain. He writhes, appearing in agony.
Eleanor sits beside him, swiping the cake off his face and delivering it to her open mouth.
Then Bubbles waddles over and crouches over Tate’s leg, and I watch on in horror as the dog begins to pee.
“Welcome to my fucking world,” Reed says, standing over Tate with his hands on his hips and a hint of a smile on his face.
“Congratulations on the baby shower, man.” Shaw slaps me on the back, and I laugh. When my eyes meet Summer’s, I see the same sentiment firing right back at me.
This is happiness.
THIRTY-SEVEN
MASE
Tate was takento the emergency room. Reed brought his family home to the house next door, and Shaw managed to persuade Eleanor to leave with promises of Disneyland and more cake. I think Reed might be right; she has an addiction to sugary food.
If I were Shaw, after tonight’s spectacle, I’d probably just give in too.
A team of cleaners is working through the house, and I’m conscious of the fact that Hugh has made himself scarce all night. Odd for a man who likes to know everything.
About twenty minutes ago, I sent Summer upstairs to take a bath, and I can’t fucking wait to join her.
“Tonight was a huge success.” Travis grins widely, wiping the kitchen counter.
“Thanks for your help.” I nudge him. I’m excited about this kid’s future as we step into expanding the STORM dynasty.
My phone pings with a message.
Reed: Why the hell is Bubbles shitting blue?
Tate: Eleanor was feeding her the icing.
I turn the phone to show Travis the messages, and he chuckles along with me.
Shaw: Oops.
Reed: I’ll send you the vet bill.
Me: Why? Because you can’t afford it? (Eye roll emoji.)
Tate: She might need a colonic irrigation.
Shaw: They do them for dogs?
Tate: I mean Reed has had plenty.
Reed: Funny!
