Wrong Place, Right Time - Elle Casey Page 0,3

while I escaped to our family cabin and got my shit together after Miles left me. And she’d do it again in a heartbeat if I needed her to, because that’s the kind of sister she is. Maybe I can just answer her questions over the phone.

I walk quickly back to the kitchen and grab my cell off the counter. Another text is waiting for me along with a photo of my sister. Her eyes are crossed and she’s looking as pitiful as she knows how.

May: Pretty please?

Knife through the heart. She totally knows how to play me. I push the buttons that will connect me to my sister’s phone and put the cell to my ear.

She picks up on the second ring. “Thank you so much, Jenny. I really appreciate it. I need your help.”

“Yeah,” I say dryly, “I got that.”

“You know I wouldn’t bother you on your me-time weekend if it weren’t really important.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. What is it? Make it quick and make it snappy, sister. I have a date with something hot and slippery upstairs.”

“Uh . . . ew. What is it? A dildo? That’s kind of gross that you’re sharing that with me.”

“No! Gah! Not a dildo! It’s my bubble bath, fool!” My face is flaming hot. As if I’d tell her that. Now I know she’s mental. “What do you need? Come on, I’m on the clock here. I have only forty-two hours left.” I look at my watch and hate the fact that I’m wishing my kids could be gone longer. Worst. Mother. Ever. I will not be winning any Mom of the Year awards anytime soon.

“Ummm . . . errr—”

I cut May off. “No, ma’am. Huh-uh. There is no ummm and there is no errr; there’s just you telling me what you need really quickly, me giving you my answer, and then me hanging up and getting into the bathtub.”

“Wow. What did Miles do?”

I want to strangle the phone just thinking about it. I’m not mad at May; I’m just hating myself all over again for marrying that man in the first place. The only thing that keeps me from indulging in complete self-flagellation is the fact that he gave me three adorable babies. Miles wasn’t a complete mistake, but he was close.

“Oh, nothing much,” I say, not keeping the hatred out of my voice nearly as much as I should. “He just informed me as he was picking the kids up that he needs to drop them off early on Sunday.”

She snorts her disgust. “Of course he did. Did you expect anything different?”

She’s right. I know she’s right. Why do I always do this? I convince myself he’s going to be a good guy and a good father for a change, getting my hopes up. For what? To have them come crashing down, that’s what. It’s like I want to punish myself or something.

Good guys don’t do what he did and what he continues to do at every opportunity. Leopards don’t change their spots. Our own mother said that enough times that I should have internalized the wisdom, but alas . . . I have repeated her mistakes in my own life, marrying a philandering turdbasket. I think this makes me certifiably stupid. Dumb as a box of rocks, as my father used to say about the woman who gave birth to us. At least that man is gone from my life for good. He caused our family enough pain for two lifetimes with his drinking and aggressive behavior toward women, his lies, and the cheating on our mother. Now if only Miles would take a long walk off a short pier . . .

I jerk myself back to the present and away from my murderous thoughts. “I have no idea why I expected him to man-up or father-up. I should know better by now.”

“Well, don’t worry, because I have good news for you. Great news. Because I am such an amazing sister, and because I am pretty much clairvoyant, I already have a solution in place for you.”

This does not bring me comfort. Normally May is pretty good in the solutions department, but I can’t trust her to be totally responsible anymore, since obviously she thinks quitting a perfectly good job and joining a commando security firm where she gets stalked by killers is a good career move, and when you have three kids to take care of, you need at least one responsible adult around.

“I’m afraid to