Page 264 of The Night Shift
A second later, the door flies open, revealing two matching heads of bright red hair on the other side.
“Aunty Hollipop!”
Oh my god, it’s my favorite girl!” Holly’s face lights up. Still clinging to my fingers, she does a seamless plushie-for-child trade-off with April, lifting Baby Audrey onto her hip like it’s muscle memory.
I never thought I’d see the day Holly Moore would be tolerable towards someone calling her something as obnoxiousas “Hollipop” — much less a six-year-old, but Audrey Parker is without question her favorite human under four feet tall.
April exhales and runs a hand through her hair. “Please keep her for as long as you want. Mommy needs a glass of wine.”
Mini-April pouts in Holly’s arm. “Mommy. Rude.”
April sticks her tongue out and plants a loud kiss to her daughter’s head, eliciting a shrieking giggle.
We step inside to see that the house is dressed in confetti. There are streamers dangling from the ceiling, half-deflated balloons sticking to the walls, and the carpet is basically glitter now. A sign in pink sparkly letters reads ‘MAY IS ONE’ — except the “E” is backward and the “S” is hanging off by tape.
Parker appears from the kitchen, wearing an apron covered in frosting. “Finally. Dr. Hollipop has graced us with her presence.”
“Don’t call me that,” Holly deadpans.
Audrey twists around on her hip to glare at her dad. “Yeah, Daddy. Don’t call her that. She’s my Hollipop, not yours.”
Holly smiles, smug and victorious.
Parker points at her. “Stop turning my daughter against me.” Then pivots to point the same finger at his daughter. “And you.”
Audrey frowns at Parker.
“Would your highness like some cake now or later?”
“Now! Now! Now!”
He ruffles her hair and scoops her effortlessly out of Holly’s arms, draping her across his shoulder like a ragdoll. They disappear into the kitchen in a flurry of frosting and giggles. Audrey’s laugh echoes down the hall as Parker hands her a spoon piled high with icing.
Once they’re out of earshot, Holly turns to me, her fingers still laced tightly with mine. “I really don’t want to do this,” she mutters under her breath.
“Love, it’s going to be all right.”
“My sister is going to kill you.”
“Why am I killing Theo?” April materializes behind us, hands on her hips, wearing an oversized sweater while her four-year-old son, Peter — yes, they named their kid Peter Parker — is half-hiding behind his mother’s leg, with just his tiny head peeking out.
I freeze. Holly shoots me a withering side-eye, her expression sayingdon’t you dare.
I clear my throat. “Uh, so where’s the birthday girl?”
April narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Sleeping.”
“Sleeping? It’s her birthday. Wake her up.”
April crosses her arms. “Holly, you can’t just wake up a one-year-old baby.”
“Maybeyoucan’t. But I can.”
Right on cue, Toothless — their all-black cat named by a very insistent toddler — trots into the room with a throaty purr and starts winding around Holly’s legs like she’s missed her favorite criminal aunt.
Peter tugs on April’s dress. “Mommy, I want cake.”
“I know you do,” April says patiently. “But we have to wait for your little sister to wake up, right?”
