Must Be Wright (The Wrights 3)

Wyatt sat back down and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through cleaning services and, after about twelve phone calls, found one he could pay a ludicrous fee to come over in the next hour to get the job done.

He left his tiara on the table and went inside to check on Belle. She was out cold, so he went into the bathroom and scrubbed his face. When he looked in the mirror, water dripping off his chin, he shook his head. “I’m going to need to get a chemical peel to get this shit off.”

He wandered into the living room and stretched out on the sofa opposite Belle.

He woke to the doorbell chime with a start. It took him several long moments to place himself. He rushed to the door, praying it was Francie who’d forgotten her key. It might not have been logical, but it was the first thought that popped to mind.

Wyatt swung the door wide and found himself staring at three twenty-something women, all carrying cleaning equipment.

He exhaled and rubbed his eyes before stepping aside. “Come in.” He looked in on Belle, who was still sleeping, then asked the crew, “Would you mind starting outside?”

They agreed and exited through the sliders, attacking the backyard with big black trash bags.

Wyatt tried calling and texting Francie again. But after ten minutes with no answer, he moved out onto the front porch and called his parents.

“Hey, sweetie,” his mom answered. “Is the party over? I’m still nagging your father to organize his things. He treats a suitcase like a duffel bag, just tossing things in.”

“Uh, yeah, about the party…” He wasn’t sure how to go at this. “Francie never came back from her ice-cream run. It’s been hours, and I can’t get ahold of her. I’m starting to worry.”

“Oh.” His mother drew out the word, sadness filtering through her voice. “I knew she was stressed at the party. She must have needed some mommy time.”

“What in the hell is mommy time?”

“She’s got a lot on her shoulders. Sometimes she needs to take some time for herself. She’s done this a few times since…” His mother’s voice dipped with pain, clearly about to say “Brody’s death.” “She usually comes back within a day or two.”

Wyatt’s jaw hit the deck. “Day or two? Are you serious?” He looked through the front window and checked on Belle, who was still sound asleep. “I believe that would be considered abandonment.”

“Now don’t you go judging her. She’s had it rough.”

“Rough?” Wyatt wanted to scream. He hardly qualified getting a beautiful house, a new car, and a generous monthly allowance from him as rough. “How hard is it to show up for your kid’s special day?”

“Being a single parent is hard, Wyatt. And she still hasn’t gotten over losing Brody.”

“I know, it’s just… I have a gi

g tonight.”

“You also have your niece,” she said with a stern get-your-priorities-straight tone. “I suggest you turn on Beauty and the Beast and both of you turn in early.”

Wyatt closed his eyes, dropped his head back, and exhaled.

“We would take Belle,” his mother said, “but it really would be a little too much for us the night before we travel. Maybe we should cancel—”

“No.” He opened his eyes. “No, don’t do that. I’ll figure it out. Have a great trip.”

Wyatt disconnected and braced his hands on the porch railing. He thought of canceling on Gypsy, and imagined the it-figures look in her eyes. “Fuck.”

“That’s a bad word.”

He spun toward Belle’s voice and found her leaning against the doorjamb, rubbing her eyes.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Where’s Mommy?”

He took a deep breath and lied. “Mommy’s taking the night off so you and I can chill together. I’m thinking of having pizza and going to a friend’s…” Bar? Was he really considering taking a five-year-old to a bar? “Place.”

Belle dropped her hand and just looked at him, clearly not quite awake. “I’m not hungry. I think all the sugar hurt my tummy. Can I wear my Belle dress to your friend’s place? Mommy said I get to be a princess all day.”