Page 88 of Sweeter Than Fiction

Chapter Thirty-three

Don

After breakfast, we help Mom clean up the kitchen before we head to the bedroom to relax for a bit. Really, I just want a moment alone with Abby to make sure she’s doing okay. I don’t want her to get uncomfortable at any point during our stay.

I lay on the bed and motion for her to join me. When she does, she curls up against me with her head on my chest.

“How are you doing, beautiful?” I ask.

“I’m okay,” she replies.

“Just okay?”

She looks up at me. “Don, I’m good. I promise. Your mom is great, and I’m having a nice time. I know that I’m anxious and antsy and a bit neurotic, but you don’t have to worry so much. I can hold my own.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you can. I also know that sometimes, you get overwhelmed, and you don’t say anything to anyone, which just makes things worse.”

“I promise to let you know if I am feeling overwhelmed,” she promises.

I know we should probably go back out there and help Mom with whatever she needs. But after our late night in the bedroom and our very early flight, I can barely keep my eyes open.

Apparently, Abby has the same problem because when I say something else to her, all I am met with in response is a soft snore.

It doesn’t take long before I am right behind her.

“Uncle D.” I hear a loud whisper in my ear as I feel two tiny hands forcing my eyelids open.

“Kaylee?” I ask.

“Time to wake up.”

I look over to find Abby, but she’s not on the bed with me anymore. The only one here is Kaylee who is now pressing her forehead against mine.

“Get. Out. Of. Bed.”

“Don’t you want to lay down and take a nap?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so,” I mutter. “Alright, Uncle D is up.”

Walking out to the living room, I look around for Abby, but still nothing. Instead, I see Paul sitting on the couch, watching a football game on his phone. And Mom is still busy in the kitchen.

I walk over to shake Paul’s hand. “Good to see you, bud.”

“Hey, you too, man.”

Paul and I have a relationship of few words. He’s a nice guy, and we talk when we actually have something to say. But neither of us is big on small talk.

“Where’s that sister of mine?” I ask.

“Oh, your mom was almost out of butter, so Jill and Abby ran back to our house to get some more.”

My eyes go wide. “I’m sorry. Abby and Jill are together?”

He nods. “Yep. Why is that a big deal?”

“Paul, you are married to Jill. You should know better than anyone the answer to that question.”

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