Page 58 of Last Witch Attempt
“Maybe it’s Millie,” I offered. “Maybe she’s running around town doing things that you don’t remember.”
“Like a second personality?” Steve looked intrigued. “Is that possible?”
“No,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I’m not senile.”
Twila’s mouth opened again, but Marnie shoved a breadstick in her mouth to silence her.
“You know what, I don’t have to take this abuse.” Aunt Tillie hopped to her feet. “I hate all of you. I am not crazy.”
She stormed toward the door and shoved it open.
“What about dinner?” Mom called to her back.
“Yes, it can’t help with the senility to skip meals,” I added.
Mom set fire to me with her laser gaze. “You’re not helping.”
“Kind of like you didn’t help me with Landon, huh?”
“I signed us up for the gym, Bay,” Landon announced. “First workout is tomorrow at seven in the morning. We have to be up at six. Be prepared.”
I sank into my chair. This day just kept getting worse and worse.
14
FOURTEEN
Dinner took it out of me, and I was exhausted for the walk to the guesthouse. We could’ve driven. Landon, however, decided the walk was better for us. He downloaded a calorie-counting app before we left the inn, then muttered to it the whole way home.
“There are only forty-three calories in a slice of bacon,” he announced when we hit the trail at the back of the inn. “That’s not too bad.”
I didn’t bother looking at him. I was focused on the trees. “How many calories in an egg?”
He did something on his phone. “Seventy-eight.”
“And hash browns?”
“Holy crap,” he said after a second. “There are almost five-hundred calories in a cup of hash browns.”
“Which you eat two cups of every morning.”
“That is a gross exaggeration.” He didn’t sound convinced. “So, how many calories am I having for breakfast every morning?”
I wasn’t a math wizard, but it wasn’t hard to add it up. “Well, if you have two cups of hash browns, ten slices of bacon, and three eggs…” I trailed off.
He didn’t come up with a number.
“That’s about fifteen-hundred calories. And that’s not counting the toast … or the juice.”
“Juice is good for you,” Landon argued.
“As long as you don’t have too much of it.”
“It says there are a hundred and ten calories in eight ounces. How many ounces do I drink every morning?”
“More than eight.”
“Wow.” When I finally looked up, his gaze was accusatory. “Why did you let me eat that much?”
