“I feel like shit. Besides, I need to be here to hand out candy. Since apparently they aren’t going to cancel the traditional trek to Ashgrove Manor, despite the fact that there’s a killer still at large!”
Gabriel frowned, turning to rummage around in his backpack and thrust a motion sickness bracelet at me.
“Put this on.”
I obeyed.
“What are you wearing to trick or treat in?”
“This,” I said, gesturing down at the little black minidress I had on and reaching for my witch’s hat.
But he was already shaking his head.
“Turn your ass back around and put something else on.”
“What?”
“The mother of my children is not handing out candy dressed as a slutty witch.”
“I’m just a witch!”
He pointed back into the bedroom.
It was fucking galling being ordered around by a 22-year-old man who grabbed his crotch and stuck his tongue out after every single goal at work, but I knew from experience that Gabriel wouldn’t relent.
Not when it came to me.
“I don’t have a backup costume,” I said. “I thought I’d be passing out candy with yourfather,not you.”
“That was over the second I saw you. I’ll have someone go get a costume.”
“What about all my other clothes? My condo back in town?”
“What about them?”
“The baby and I could stay there while you’re on the road.”
“Fuck no. You’ll be coming with me.”
“You’re going to want a newborn with you on the road?”
“I’ll be at home when the baby’s a newborn,brat.”
What goddamn diagnostic criteria wasinsisting on taking paternity leave?
“Don’t fucking bother trying to sneak anyone’s cellphone, either.”
“What do you mean?” I parried.
Gabriel’s arm slipped around my waist.
“I’ve given orders that if Branby sees you trying to get a phone, he’s to call me immediately.”
“You mean he’s got to follow me around all night? Maybe Branby is the killer. He’s creepy enough.”
Gabriel only laughed.
“He’s taken every order this family has given for two decades. He’s not the killer.”
