Must Be Wright (The Wrights 3)

At her feet, Cooper tugged on the hem of her T-shirt with both hands. “Mama.” His whine ratcheted up to pre-tantrum level. “I wanna help.”

He didn’t really want to help, he wanted her to pick him up and cuddle him, the way she’d been doing for days. He had an ear infection that just wouldn’t quit, and he didn’t feel good. But it was too soon for another dose of pain meds.

“Soup is five dollars,” Belle said from the counter where she sat on a stool doing homework at a second-grade level even though she was only in kindergarten. “And bread is five dollars. That’s ten dollars.” She circled the right answer.

“You’re so darn smart, sweetie.” Gypsy praised the girl, who looked up with a smile. The girl soaked up every ounce of praise, and after what she’d been through, Gypsy tried to remember to give her extra. Even though Wyatt had located Francie in Columbia, getting and keeping in contact with her had been difficult, and Gypsy did her best to make sure the girl never felt like she was coming second to anyone.

“Thank you,” she said, perky and crisp, before refocusing on her homework.

Both Cooper and Belle always looked so small in Wyatt’s house. She caught herself and corrected. Their house. They’d decided on a small, private wedding ceremony with immediate friends and family four months ago and moved into Wyatt’s house. Gypsy still used the small home on Marty’s property as an office, when it wasn’t being used as a guesthouse for a visiting friend or relative, which happened more than expected, given the growing size of everyone’s families.

The house was big and homey, but elegant. There was a curved staircase leading to the second floor and clerestory windows everywhere. The kitchen was the size of her little container home, with an island spanning the distance between the kitchen and a sunken family room. She got all her steps done for the day just by moving around the kitchen when she cooked dinner, which, admittedly, wasn’t often. But that was something she wanted to change, so they could have dinner together and connect as a family.

Now, both kids were bathed and in their pajamas, and as soon as they ate, Cooper would get another dose of antibiotics and pain meds so he could sleep. She and Wyatt always spent his first day back home in bed, taking long naps in between making love while the kids were in school. It was their day to catch up and reconnect after their equally frantic long weekends apart.

This whole blended-family thing felt a lot like chaos. But every time Wyatt walked in that door, Gypsy knew she wouldn’t want it any other way. Although she did have news that was going to throw a wrench into things.

“I’m hungry, Mama.” Cooper tugged hard on her shirt, and Gypsy pried his hand loose and held it in her own. “You can have a graham cracker. Grab one from the pantry.”

“Noooooo.” So, he wasn’t really hungry either. Not surprising; he rarely ate when he didn’t feel well.

Wyatt would be home from his latest touring weekend soon. Gypsy had picked Belle and Cooper up from

her mother-in-law’s house early so Wyatt could come straight home. His parents had enveloped Cooper instantly as their grandson, and nowadays, where Belle went, Cooper went. Wyatt loved walking in the door and having the kids run at him, thrilled with his return. And it warmed Gypsy’s heart every time she watched their reunion. But right now, she felt like she’d bitten off more than she could chew.

At the counter, Belle put away her math homework and pulled out a sheet of paper with what looked like three centipedes on it, words tilted haphazardly inside the bodies of each.

“Oh, I hate these,” she groaned, dropping her chin to the counter and slouching her shoulders.

“What is it?” Gypsy asked, while she leaned down and made what felt like a herculean effort to lift Cooper in her free arm. The boy grew so damn fast.

“Alphabetical order.”

Gypsy handed Cooper a few spaghetti noodles, then covered his hand with her own. “Slide these into the pot, but make sure you don’t touch the water, or you’ll burn yourself.”

“I wanna help,” Belle said with an if-he-gets-to-do-it-I-should-too tone as she climbed off the stool at the counter and hurried around to Gypsy’s side.

“Honey, it’s a little too hard to let you both help when Cooper isn’t feeling well.”

Cooper lost all interest in the noodles and laid his head on her shoulder. Cuddling was all he wanted right now, and she understood, but dinner was underway, and Wyatt was already headed home, so she stayed the course, even though she wanted nothing more than to turn off the stove, dump dinner in the trash, and pass out on the sofa with the kids.

“I can do it,” Belle insisted. She moved to another counter and returned with the bottle of marinara.

“It’s not quite time for that yet, honey.” Good God, she felt like her body was leaching fatigue from her bones.

She tried to set Cooper down, and he started screaming and kicking. Gypsy held on to him and straightened but tightened her arm around him and gave him a stern look. “Stop that. There’s hot water right here. That’s dangerous.”

Which caused his face to crumble and her boy to melt into tears.

Pain stabbed her heart, and Gypsy closed her eyes on a soft “Jesus Christ.”

Crash. The marinara bottle landed half on her foot, half on the floor. Pain rocketed through her toes, and hundreds of glass slivers scattered across the hardwood. The sauce sprayed the gray cabinets, splashed up Gypsy’s light-blue jeans, hit her face, and caught in her hair. She glanced at Belle, who looked even worse, sauce everywhere.

Everything went silent. Cooper stopped crying and Belle stood, wide-eyed, both hands over her mouth. Gypsy closed her eyes and exhaled through gritted teeth. She wasn’t angry, but she really was overly frazzled, which pissed her off, because she was bigger than this, better than this. She could handle way more than a couple of kids and a broken jar of sauce. Yet, she wanted to scream and sob at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” Tears edged Belle’s voice. “I’ll clean it up.”

“No.” Gypsy caught Belle’s arm. “No, don’t move, honey. There’s glass everywhere, and you’ll cut your feet.”