Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

Millie’s little mouth drops. She stands in my lap and presses her hand to the glass with wide eyes.

“Mommy needs a nap!” she sputters.

I’m just grateful she doesn’t seem to understand where Mommy is. Or remember my little white lie about the temp job.

Abby presses her hand to Millie’s on the other side of the glass divider, trying not to cry as she smiles.

“The quicker I talk to her, the sooner she can get some sleep, bumblebee,” I say, wrangling Millie back into a seated position. I pick up the phone on our side of the glass. “Millie says you need a nap. How’re you holding up?”

“Okay. I just...I miss her. She looks good. You’re taking care of her, thank God.”

“Mommy says she misses you and you look good,” I relay to the wiggle worm in my lap.

Millie tilts her head up at me and beams. I wish I could hang on to the moment before meeting my sister’s eyes again.

“So, what happened?” I ask.

“I didn’t mean for this—it’s just—” She lets out a long sigh and hot tears streak her face. “I was desperate for money. I made a mistake, okay? It doesn’t matter. Reese, you can’t let Will take Millie.”

My heart stops cold in my chest. I can’t process her words.

Is my sister admitting she...she was messing around with drugs?

Jesus Christ.

Millie—who thankfully can’t hear Abby—still notices the difference in her composure. She clings to me tighter.

“I’m going to take care of Millie no matter what happens. Don’t you worry. But I got you an attorney, courtesy of the bosshole. Have you talked to him yet?”

“He called. I...I can’t tell him much,” Abby says with a sigh.

“Why not?”

I don’t understand.

Abby looks around, her eyes large and panicked and pleading. A guard behind her notices and steps forward.

“I told you—I can’t say.”

“Um, you kind of have to say if you ever want to get out of there. Tell me. You know you can trust me,” I urge.

“Reese, I know what you’re thinking, but...trust me. There are reasons I can’t and we need to just leave it at that. For now,” she adds hastily, as if that makes it better. “Just don’t let Will get Millie, whatever you do. I don’t care what it takes. Please don’t let him have my baby.”

Raw desperation fills her red eyes.

Where was this concern when you apparently had coke stuffed in the car seat?

The confusion is maddening. I don’t say anything though, because I have to keep it together to deal with attorneys, a billionaire boss who needs to know if I’m ever going back to work, and the ray of sunshine from CPS.

I pull Millie closer to me and hug her, trying not to whisper, I’ve got you, baby, even if my sister is a pusher and your dad’s a dickhead.

I sigh. “Can you just tell me if you’re guilty?”

For a brutal second, she’s silent, her lashes fluttering.

“...like I said. I made some mistakes. Big ones.”

Gutted. On second thought, I’m grateful for the sudden wave of anger because it keeps me from breaking down in tears.

“They told me I have to inform Will that I have Millie, but I won’t let him take her,” I say mechanically. “I’m supposed to call him ASAP. Do you know his number?”

She shakes her head.

“No. It could be somewhere in my apartment, but I think you’re poking the bear by calling him.” She’s quiet for a minute. “Who said you have to call him?”

Oops, I’ve said too much. Abby will freak if she finds out there’s a risk Millie might wind up with a total stranger, following in our footsteps.

I shrug, trying to play it down. “Just some caseworker. I’ve got a handle on it.”

“Caseworker? From where?”

Should I lie? Right in front of my tiny niece? What’s even believable?

Jesus. I don’t know.

“It’s nothing, Abby. Don’t worry,” I try again.

“It’s CPS, isn’t it? Someone told you that you have to drag Will into this. Shit.” She sinks back against the seat that’s far too short for her, pinching her nose.

I say nothing. There’s no point in confirming her terrible guess and torturing her.

“Whatever. Just...don’t let him take Millie,” she says.

“Over my dead body,” I tell her, and I mean it.

If I have to leave everything and flee to Canada in the middle of the night, Will Frisk won’t be near my bumblebee.

The guard steps closer to Abby and taps a watch on her wrist.

“Looks like my time’s up. Bring Millie back when you can.” She gives me the world’s saddest wave goodbye before the guard leads her away.

Millie waves to her, then realizes something isn’t right. She presses her little hands to the glass, leaning out of my lap while I try to wrestle her back.

“Don’t let Mommy leave! Want Mommy back!” Millie screams, her voice wavering with that warning quiver every kid has before they burst into tears.