JJ
Charlie had painted three of my fingernails before I realized I had somehow agreed to this.
“Hold still.”
“I am holding still.”
“You moved.”
“I breathed.”
“That counts.”
I looked toward Hannah for support and found absolutely none. She was stretched across the other end of Benny’s couch with a bowl of popcorn balanced against her stomach, watching the television like Charlie painting my nails while my daughter was somewhere in the middle of a biker rescue was a completely normal Friday night.
Sable sat in the chair nearest the window.
Her phone was still in her hand.
That was the only thing keeping the room attached to reality.
Otherwise, the last hour had somehow turned into food, nail polish, blankets, and an episode of Love Is Blind that Charlie claimed she had already see
