Page 28 of Someone Save My Midlife Tonight

“I’d say try thirty-seven,” Shitty Ritchie told him, ignoring my last statement. The little dude had very selective hearing. “Seven is a very magical number.”

“Ah! Excellent thinking,” Tim replied, scribbling it down on his pad.

I made a mental note to set up hearing appointments for both of the dummies. A change of subject was in order. I reached deep for something that might distract them. I went for the only weather fact I knew. “Hey!Did you guys know that cyclone in North America is called a hurricane and in Japan it’s called a typhoon?”

No one took the bait.

Shitty Ritchie grew weirdly agitated and fidgeted for a full five minutes as we watched. It looked like he needed the bathroom, but I knew that wasn’t the reason. I held my breath and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long.

“Do you think Heather and Missy might be interested in my sperm?” Shitty Ritchie asked with his blue eyes filled with hope.

I wanted to laugh. I didn’t. I wanted to scream NO. I didn’t. I considered dropkicking him again. I didn’t. Instead… I used my words. Hard but doable.

“Alrighty, Shitty Ritchie,” I said in the most neutral tone I could muster up considering the circumstances. “I don’t think that’s a good ask right now considering when you got here you yelled the word fuck multiple times and then blew up my house—not a great first impression. Also, it’s not a given that Heather and Missy want kids, so both of you need to be prepared for that outcome. But… if, and I seriously stress the wordifyou want to ask, you need to shape up your act.”

“Could you define that?” Shitty Ritchie inquired.

“Sure. No eating people. Ever. No blowing up houses. No turning into a tornado. And if there are other storms you can turn into, those are off the table as well.”

“Is that all?” he asked.

I racked my brain for a few more rules that might make his visit less dangerous and more tolerable. “Tantrums are out.”

“That might be difficult,” he admitted.

“Try,” I said flatly. I’d told Charlie I wouldn’t talk about the Higher Power or Alana Catherine until we were all together,but I could pave the way just a little bit. “If you want to stay here and have our protection, then you’re going to have to help us in return.”

Shitty Ritchie stared at me. I stared right back at him. He was very aware that my last statement was loaded. He might be eight inches tall with a penchant for eating people who wronged him, but he wasn’t stupid. He was still alive. That couldn’t have been an easy feat if there were people after him. A lot of Immortals resorted to brutality first and asked questions second.

The stare down lasted about fifteen minutes. I wasn’t going to look away first. I’d fought Zadkiel. I’d fought Clarissa. I’d fought Demons and evil Angels. I’d won every time. There was no way I would let a tiny cannibal best me.

Shitty Ritchie caved first. He walked over to me and stuck out his doll-like hand. My instinct was to run without looking back. I quashed that inclination and extended my hand.

“Deal?” I asked.

“Deal,” he replied, then did three jazz squares.

I answered his move with jazz hands and a mostly graceful chassé.

So far, so good. The little turd was growing on me. That might be a mistake on my part, but my gut was all I had to go on. Shitty Ritchie was innocent until proven guilty, or until he ate someone.

We could solve all of this. Together we could keep both my baby and Shitty Ritchie safe. The alternative was unacceptable.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The morning haddawned gray and cloudy. It matched the mood of the past few days. Didn’t matter. We were all alive, and my baby was safe. My gut told me we were on a high-stakes collision course, but I’d navigate it with open eyes, along with my friends and family by my side. It was still unclear if we needed Shitty Ritchie, but as long as he behaved… and didn’t attempt to ingest anyone, it was irrelevant.

I’d only gotten about two hours of sleep. It was shocking I didn’t have nightmares after my several hours of time spent with Shitty Ritchie and Tim. I had no clue how Candy Vargo and Heather’s watch went. Candy had shown up and told us Heather was on her way. I’d wanted to warn her about the sperm chat, but she dove right into the promised bedtime story. It was about a hooker named Velma with a heart of gold who started an orphanage. The hooker had covertly recorded her liaisons with her wealthy and married clients then blackmailed them with the footage so the orphans could live in style—lots of violence, lots of sex and a smattering of wholesome playground antics. Shitty Ritchie was mesmerized.

I was not. I was exhausted and got out of there as fast as I could.

Thankfully, being Immortal, I didn’t need all that much sleep—two hours would have to suffice. However, sleeping was one of my favorite hobbies. Curled up in bed with Gideon and Alana Catherine was as close to perfection as I could get. Even though the house wasn’t attractive, Candy Vargo hadn’t skimped on the bed. It was so comfortable I had a difficult time getting out of it. After nursing my daughter, I finally forced myself into the shower and took Alana Catherine with me. Breast milk spit-up wasn’t the best perfume for either of us.

“Gideon?” I called out, searching the small house. Using a little magic, I’d conjured up some clean clothes for myself and Alana Catherine. Candy, in a thoughtful move, had stocked the house with food, diapers and toiletries. She’d forgotten about clothes. That was fine by me. Her taste was iffy on a good day and frightening on every other day.

“Gideon?” I called out again.

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