Maggie: Don’t feel bad. It was fun. Ish.
Chapter 5 – Safari Patrol
Rosalie
There’s a big difference between being in bed and being asleep, especially when it comes to kids. We’ve established a truce for nights like this. Wyatt and Callie want to wait up for their dad, and I want to finish cleaning up the kitchen and not have them up late raiding the pantry.
This truce is why I’m currently stomping up the stairs past the nightlight casting me as an elongated shadow on the wall. Besides my cutoffs and tank top, I’m wearing a set of kid binoculars that swing from my neck, and I have a safari hat on my head. I’m also in the boots Liam uses for when he turns on the flood irrigation in the backyard. I have to stomp carefully, or I’ll trip and fall right out of them.
I don’t question the outfit. It’s Callie’s version of what anangry hall monitor would look like, and the two of them are strangely afraid to be caught by me when I’m dressed like this.
The carpet under my feet mutes most of the noise, but I do my best to announce my presence with each stomp. “Who’s out of bed?” I holler, putting the binoculars up to my eyes as I pass by their rooms. Wyatt is professional at feigning sleep. He should go into acting. He turns over and sighs and everything. His fake snoring could use some work, though.
Callie is a squirmy giggler with her blankets kicked all the way to the end of the bed, but she isinher bed, so all I do is waggle my finger at her and tell her I’ll get her next time. She reaches for her covers and pulls them up over her head.
I’ve just bought myself ten minutes. They might even be asleep for real when I make my next rounds. Slipping out of the boots, I carry them downstairs and set them next to me on the floor with the hard plastic hat resting on top. Then I wash the dinner dishes and clean up the last of our baking mess. This brownie pan is killer. I should have greased it better.
With my phone propped up on the counter by the sink, I watch reel after reel of completely scripted America’s Got Talent judge reactions, and yet I still cry when Simon declares, “That was the best version of that song I’ve ever heard. Your mum would be so proud.” The contestant is crying. One of the lady judges is crying. We’re all crying. I don’t even know what happens if they win. Not to mention, these clips are wicked old. All these people have moved on. Except me, caught up in the emotions of the moment.
Once I’m finished in the kitchen, I dry my hands and slip back into the boots and hat to make what’s hopefully my final trip upstairs. It’s been a lot more than ten minutes since I last checked on the kids. They’ve definitely either fallen asleep or gone feral. Sometimes even the best truces fail.
I’m quieter this time. No stomping. The hallway is clear. So far, so good. A peek into Wyatt’s room tells me he gave up on the book he was reading and fell asleep. The pages of hisBad Guysbook are getting mashed by his pillow, so I sneak in and rescue the book, smoothing it out and setting it on his nightstand. Hedoesn’t even stir.
Callie is not quite asleep, but she’s close. I watch from the doorway while she tosses and turns with her eyes closed, hugging her threadbare giraffe. “I did good, Ro,” she whispers. “You didn’t catch me.”
I guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought.
“You did, sweetheart.”
She yawns, her eyes still closed. “Tell Daddy we saved him some brownies.”
“I will.”
When her breathing evens out, I turn and lightly clomp my way back to the stairwell, leaning against the wall to ease the first boot off.
“Quite the outfit.”
I jolt at the sudden appearance of Liam below me and start to fall forward. The panic doesn’t hit until my hands miss the railing and Liam is racing up the stairs to catch me. Which he does, with my stupid hard plastic safari hat nailing him in the chest as we both crumple and find purchase against the wall.
I’m pretty sure I knocked the wind out of him, and our panic is as intertwined as his arms around me in a vise lock. Between that and the strap of the binoculars cutting off my circulation, I’m not breathing all that well either. And yet, I’m afraid to move, afraid we’re not done falling and this is just part one. It all happened so fast.
He finally takes a step down to steady himself and relaxes his hold on me. It’s then he notices the binocular strap trying to strangle me and unwinds it from around my neck before taking the binoculars off, along with the hat that stayed put thanks to its very attractive chin strap.
“You okay?” I ask him.
He nods, looking me in the eyes. “You scared me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared. Ro, what if I hadn’t caught you?”
The mixture of concern and relief in his face has my tear ducts filling up. He never looks at me this intently, and boy, is it potent. And he called me Ro. This is bad. This is so bad. The man just returned from a date. Everything from his perfectly fitted shirt tohis dreamy cologne testifies of it.
Now I really am crying.
“Oh, no. Don’t do that.” He reaches up to wipe a tear away and stops himself. I see the moment he realizes what he’s doing, the moment his walls go up.
He takes another step down, very subtly putting more space between us. “I shouldn’t have startled you like that. I’m sorry.”
“Only a robot wouldn’t comment on this outfit, Liam.” I laugh and wipe at my eyes. “It’s meant to be ridiculous.”
“Did you lose a bet?”