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SINGLE MAMA’S GOT MORE DRAMA

Usa Today Bestselling Author

Kayla Perrin
Single Mama’s Got More Drama

For Leslie Gray, a longtime friend

and newly single mother.

You’re beautiful, funny and talented,

and you deserve nothing but the best.

Here’s to never settling and to hoping

that your true Mr. Right comes along.

I love you!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Prologue

“Ms. Cain?”

“Hello,” I said, sitting up straight when I heard the voice on the other end of my line. It was Tassie Johnson’s lawyer. My heart filled with hope after the message I’d left for him. I finally had a way to come up with the cash necessary to buy out Tassie’s estranged husband’s share of my condo, and hoped that her lawyer was calling to tell me that we had a deal.

I give Tassie Johnson a nice sum of cash. She leaves me the heck alone forever.

“I’ve spoken with my client,” Bradley Harris said.

I crossed my fingers. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for. My headache with Tassie was about to be over.

“However, Tassie asked me to tell you that she is rejecting your offer.”

“What?” For a few seconds, I couldn’t even think. Couldn’t understand. Then I saw red. “How can she reject my offer? Those were her terms. If I bought her out, I could keep the condo.”

“Yes, but she’s had a change of heart. She feels, having had time to fully consider the matter, that she would like to relocate to South Beach.”

“And my apartment,” I remarked sourly. That evil, evil—

“Your shared property.”

Shared property, my ass. “So in other words,” I began, anger brewing inside me like hot water in a kettle, “Tassie Johnson’s only interest is in screwing me over. Do me a favor—tell her to stick it where the sun don’t shine. Oh—and tell her I want my hat back.”

And then I hung up.

If Tassie Johnson wanted a fight, it was on.

It was while I was gazing at the engagement ring Lewis had given me that I thought of something. Rather, made sense of something.

The day Alaina and I had gone to Atlanta, we’d seen Tassie near Eli’s casket in the funeral home. I remembered that I’d seen a man beside her, offering comfort—an attractive man.

Tassie had tried to smear me in the media, making me out to be a manipulative slut while she’d been the doting wife, but it was unlikely that she had been sitting around waiting for Eli’s return for seven years. She was an extremely attractive woman, one who could have her pick of men.

She could have cheated on Eli for all I knew. What if she had some skeletons in her closet that she didn’t want exposed?

There was one way to find out.

I searched for the Miami Herald reporter’s card and dialed her number.

“Cynthia? This is Vanessa Cain,” I said without preamble when she picked up.

“Hello, Vanessa.”

“You said that you’d help me out if I ever needed anything. Well, I need something.”

When I replaced the receiver five minutes later, I was smiling.

If anyone could help me bring Tassie Johnson down, it was Cynthia.

It was high time I played dirty.

1

Ten days later

I was locking the door to my condo when I sensed them. Sensed them and knew they meant trouble.

Securing my keys in the palm of my hand, I immediately reached down and scooped up my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Rayna, who was standing to my left. It was an instinctive, protective gesture—because I knew this was going to be bad.

Then, fearing the worst, I slowly turned.

My stomach lurched. Standing behind me were two very large men. One African-American, one Caucasian. Both looking like they abused steroids and had just escaped from prison.

“Vanessa Cain?” the white man asked, his voice raspy. Harsh.

I swallowed. Stalled for time.

“You are Vanessa Cain, right?” the man continued. Tattoos covered both of his forearms, which didn’t exactly give me a warm and fuzzy feeling about him.

Nerves had me shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Who wants to know?”

“We’re here to help you vacate Tassie Johnson’s condo,” the black man said, his words sounding like a threat.

I chuckled nervously as I met his stern gaze. “Excuse me?”

“It’s time you leave,” he told me. “And never come back.”

“This is my home.” I pressed my face to my daughter’s. “Our home. You wouldn’t take a mother and child from their home, would you?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Cain,” the white man said. “We’re simply following orders.”

“Whose orders? The court’s—or Tassie’s?”

“It’s time,” the black man began, “for you to leave. Tassie will send you your things.”

“Oh, isn’t that sweet of her?” I retorted sarcastically. “You want me out of here? You show me a court order. This is America. You can’t just kick me out of my own home.”

Neither man seemed swayed by what I said. In fact, they both took a menacing step toward me.

“Wait!” I cried. “Don’t do this.”

“It’s time for you to leave,” the black man said again.

Was that the extent of his vocabulary? Was he a robot programmed to say only six words?

The men took another step in unison, now invading my personal space. “But—but you can’t,” I sputtered, clutching Rayna to my chest while trying to block the men from getting to my condo door. They weren’t just big—they could easily compete in sumo wrestling.

The big, bald, white guy wrapped his fingers around my upper arm. “Hey!” I protested. “You can’t touch me! That’s assault!”

“Then move out of the way,” the man said.

Rayna began to cry. Tears filled my own eyes.

“But this is our home. Don’t you have a heart? How—how can you be so cold?” I cradled Rayna’s head to my shoulder to comfort her as she cried. Neither man batted an eye. I wondered if Tassie had hired them from Rent-A-Thug.

“I have a baby,” I went on. “You can actually kick me out of my home with no concern at all for my child?”

“We have our orders,” the men said in unison.

“Please,” I begged, as Rayna cried louder. “Please, have a heart.” One man took hold of my left arm, the other my right arm, which was secured around Rayna. “No,” I said defiantly. “Nooo!”

I backed up until my body was against the door. I wriggled around, fighting to free myself. And then my eyes popped open. It took me a good couple of seconds to realize that I was in my bed, and that a pair of over-steroided thugs weren’t in the room with me. I was sitting up, my body tangled in my sheets.

I’d been dreaming. Thank God.

I let out a relieved chuckle.

But my relief was short-lived. Because reality came crashing down on my shoulders, knocking me backward onto the pillow. Tassie Johnson, my late fiancé’s estranged wife, wanted me out of the home I’d shared with her husband. Yes, it’s a crazy and convoluted story, but I didn’t know that Eli Johnson, my fiancé, was still legally married at the time I was involved with him. He’d romanced me, seduced me, then proposed. We’d moved in together and had been planning a life together. How was I to know that he had an estranged wife and a couple kids somewhere? But Tassie didn’t believe me—or maybe she did, and she just didn’t care. All I knew was that as his official widow, she was making my life hell regarding the property I’d shared with Eli.

Tassie had insisted that I buy out her husband’s share of the condo, an all but impossible feat for a single mother like me. But despite the unlikelihood of me coming up with that kind of cash, I had. Only now that I’d come up with a way to buy her out and get her off my back, she up and changed her mind…and changed the game.

The sound of my door opening drew my gaze in that direction. The moment Rayna saw me, her face erupted in a smile.

Mine did, too.

“Mommy!” she cried, and sprinted toward me on the bed.

“Morning, sweetheart.” I reached for my daughter and pulled her onto the bed with me. I hugged her against my chest tightly.

“It’s morning,” Rayna went on, her way of telling me that it was time for me to get out of bed.

“Yes, it’s morning,” I agreed, then glanced at the clock—7:12 a.m.

It was the perfect time to get up—if I was heading to work. But it was a Sunday morning, the perfect time to sleep in.

My nightmare had gotten me up, and now that Rayna was awake, I was up for the day.

I lay down with Rayna, tucking her against my side. Maybe we’d both drift off.

“Mommy?” Rayna said, her little voice sounding serious.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Want Daddy.”

“Oh, baby.” I hugged her small frame. “I know you do.”

Eli hadn’t just been my fiancé, he’d been a father figure to my daughter, whose own father had abandoned her while I’d been pregnant. Since Eli’s death a few months earlier, Rayna hadn’t really asked for him much. I knew she missed his presence, and I’d tried to explain to her about heaven, but I also knew that she was too young to really understand that he’d never be coming back.

“Want Daddy come home,” she said.

“I know, baby. We miss him a lot. And I’m sure he misses us, too. But we can’t feel sad about that, remember? Because he’s in heaven, a very beautiful place, and he’s happy there.”

“Want to go heaven,” Rayna said, pouting.

“You will, one day. One day, we all will go to heaven. And you’ll see daddy again.”

Given the adulterous circumstances of Eli’s passing and the numerous lies he’d told me, I doubted we’d be reunited beyond the pearly gates. But Rayna didn’t need to know that. She never needed to know the ugly truth about what had happened. Some things, children deserved to be protected from.

I pressed my lips to Rayna’s forehead, feeling a moment of sadness for her sake. Eli’s public and scandalous death had thrown my life into upheaval and I guess, because of that, I’d had to quickly put the pain of his betrayal—being killed while in the arms of another woman—behind me. Certainly for my daughter’s sake, because she’d needed me to be strong.

But I felt for her, worried for how she was dealing with Eli’s sudden loss in her tiny heart.

“You want to go to the zoo today?” I suggested. “See all the animals? Maybe Amani can come with us.” Amani was my babysitter Carla’s daughter, and she and Rayna were only a year apart. They were playmates each day when I was at work.

Rayna clapped her hands together. “Party, party!”

The last time we’d been to the zoo, five months earlier, we’d gone for Amani’s birthday party. Which is why Rayna was associating another visit to the zoo with another party.

“It won’t be a birthday party,” I told her. “But it will be fun. We can take that train around the zoo. And you can play at the park.”

Rayna nodded enthusiastically. “Zebras!”

“Yes, you’ll see lots of zebras.” Rayna was a huge horse-and-pony fanatic, and hadn’t wanted to leave the zebra exhibit the last time we’d been to the zoo. She literally could have stayed there for hours and been content. “And maybe after we can go to the lake and feed the ducks.”

“Feed ducks, feed ducks,” Rayna chanted.

There were countless small lakes in South Florida, most with ducks and herons and cranes. The ducks, of course, were the only animals that cared to get close to humans. Bring food, and you were their best friend. I enjoyed seeing Rayna’s face light up when she tossed bread to them, getting a thrill out of the ducks surrounding her feet for a feast.

Yes, Rayna and I would spend a fun day together.

Put all the men we’d loved and lost out of our minds.

I decided I’d wait until ten to call Carla about going to the zoo, it being a Sunday morning and all. On the weekends, I didn’t like to phone people too early. It was sort of an unwritten rule with friends and family: I didn’t call them before ten in the morning, and they didn’t call me. In fact, I liked to laze around in my pajamas most of the morning, sometimes later.

When Eli had been alive, Sunday mornings had often become family bed time, with me, him and Rayna in our bed, watching the Disney Channel, snuggling and giggling—not having to worry about interruptions from the outside world.

So I was a little surprised, when, at 8:40 a.m., my phone rang.

I snatched the receiver off of the wall base in the kitchen, where I was mixing batter for pancakes. Seeing my sister’s number on the caller ID and given the time, I couldn’t help wondering if everything was okay.

“Hello?” I said.

“Morning, Vanessa.”

My sister didn’t sound stressed. “Morning, Nikki.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, you didn’t. What’s up?”

“Well…” she began, then hesitated.

I frowned. Maybe everything wasn’t okay. Was my sister having a problem with her husband, Morris? They’d gone through a brief rough patch, but as far as I knew, they were blissfully in love again.

“Nikki?” I prompted.

“I have something to ask you. Something important.”

“Okay,” I said cautiously.

“I know this is going to seem a bit weird, but given everything that’s happened, I think it’s right.”

“Just tell me already.”

“All right.” Now, I heard a smile in my sister’s voice. “I’m hoping that you’ll agree…to be the maid of honor at my wedding!”

It took a good couple of seconds for my sister’s words to register. And then I was confused.

Considering she was already married.

“Your what?” I asked.

“My wedding,” Nikki repeated.

“You already had one of those. Eight years ago.”

“I know, silly,” Nikki said. “But Morris and I are renewing our vows.”

“You are?” I asked, my voice a croak. Not because I wasn’t happy for my sister, but because I vividly remembered her first wedding. It had been a very elaborate and expensive affair. Mostly, I remembered how my sister had turned into Bridezilla as she planned the most important day of her life. She complained about practically everything. The floral arrangements weren’t big enough, not pretty enough, the bridesmaids dresses were too long, then too short. The menu changed at least once a week before it had to be firmed up. She wanted over-the-top elaborate on a scale that only celebrities typically indulge in. Anyone who tried to reason with her—namely, me, Morris and their wedding planner—got an earful and often a bout of tears thrown in on top of that.

Nikki is my only sibling, and eight years my senior. She can be trying on a good day, but when she’s stressed out, she’s pretty much unbearable.

“I know what you’re thinking. That a second wedding now is at least fifteen years too soon. But after Morris’s indiscretion, we felt it was best to have a brand-new start. You know.”

“Hey, you have to do what you need to do,” I said. If she felt a renewing of vows was in order, who was I to argue? “What are you thinking? A small ceremony somewhere?” Hopefully a city hall wedding, where she couldn’t be too demanding. A justice of the peace could marry them, and then we all could be on our merry way without the headaches that would come from a bigger wedding.

“Nothing too big,” Nikki said. “Maybe seventy-five or a hundred people.”

“What?”

“And it’s got to be on the beach. I said I want to go somewhere exotic, like Thailand. But Morris says the Keys will be fine, or maybe Jamaica or the Bahamas.”

Was my sister serious? Or was she pulling an early morning prank? I didn’t know what was worse—that she thought one hundred people constituted a small wedding, or that she expected a hundred people to travel across the world to Thailand for her second “once in a lifetime” day.

That had been her mantra the first time around. That she needed this extravagant thing, or that impossible to get thing because it was for her “once in a lifetime” day.

How nice she got to have two.

“Are you serious about Thailand?” I asked, half-chuckling. “I mean, you can’t be—right?”

“What’s wrong with Thailand?” she asked, sounding a little dismayed.

I felt the headache coming on already. Bridezilla Part Two. Oh, the joy.

“I hear Thailand is one of the most beautiful places in the world,” my sister went on.

“I’m sure it is…but I don’t think anyone has ever traveled there to have what they’d describe as a ‘small’ second wedding. Seventy-five to a hundred people? That’s not a small wedding, sis.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Nikki asked. “Aren’t you happy for me?”

“Of course I’m happy for you. I’m very happy that you and Morris are staying together and that you’re working things out. It’s just—”

“That it hurts you to see me having a second wedding when you haven’t even had your first?”

I gritted my teeth at the comment. Counted to three. Made sure that when I spoke, I didn’t say something I would end up regretting.

“No,” I began. “I was going to say that what you’re proposing sounds very expensive. A small, intimate wedding at city hall would accomplish the exact same thing. A renewal of your vows. And if you still want to go to Thailand, go for your second honeymoon.”

Silence. Nikki must have been mulling over my suggestion.

“You think seventy-five of your closest friends will be willing to hop on a plane to Thailand?” I asked, my tone saying the question was rhetorical.

“Probably fifty or sixty of them.”

I highly doubted that. My sister’s friends were all like her—married with children. Not to mention their careers. I didn’t see that many of them being able—or willing—to head to Thailand for her second wedding.

“Will you do it?” she asked. “Be my maid of honor?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Of course.” I really didn’t have a choice. I could only hope that as the weeks passed—and common sense set in—Nikki would decide on having her wedding a little closer to home.

“Good. I’m so excited!” she squealed. “A second wedding, a fresh start. This is going to be wonderful.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“I was thinking maybe December. Over Christmas, when everyone will have time off. That’ll give everyone time to start making travel arrangements now for their trip to Thailand.”

I suddenly realized that when it came to Nikki, “common sense” wasn’t necessarily a factor. For some reason, she was stuck on Thailand. “I thought you said that Morris wanted to go to the Keys or the Bahamas,” I said, hoping to steer her off the far east course.

“Yes. But I want to go to Thailand.”

I shook my head. My sister. There was no getting through to her. When she got an idea about something, no one could change her mind.

I wondered if Morris even wanted a second wedding, or if he was strictly going along with the suggestion as penance for his sin of adultery.

“Oh, I have to run,” Nikki suddenly said. “We’re going to church.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“If you want, you can meet us there for the later service. There are a few eligible bachelors in the congregation.”

“I’ll think about it,” I lied. I wasn’t against the idea of going to church. Eli and I used to go together sometimes. What I didn’t want was my sister trying to hook me up between hymns.

“Don’t just think about it,” Nikki said. “Do it.”

“Later, sis.”

“’Bye.”

Once I hung up with Nikki, I called Carla and asked if she wanted to go to the zoo with the kids.

“Oooh,” she said. “That sounds like fun.”

“Meet you at your place for noon?”

“You’re on.”

2

I was just about ready to head to Carla’s place when my phone rang. Leaving Rayna in the doorway, I ran into the living room to answer the phone.

I snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Hello?” I repeated.

A few more beats of nothing passed, and then I heard the dial tone in my ear.

I replaced the receiver, figuring someone had dialed the wrong number. No sooner was the receiver back on the hook than the phone rang again. I picked it up before it could ring a second time and said an exasperated, “Hello?”

Again, nothing.

“Stop calling me and get a life,” I said to whomever was on the other end of my line. Really…prank phone calls? Twice in a row wasn’t an accident—it was an asshole.

I was just about to pull the receiver from my ear when I heard a faint voice. A whisper of something, but so low that I couldn’t make out what the person had said.

“Who’s there?” Was it actually not a prank call and simply a bad connection?

And then I heard the voice again. Definitely a whisper, but loud enough this time that I could make out what the person had said.

Bitch.

“Who the hell is this?” I demanded. But even as I asked the question, I realized I knew who it was.

Tassie Johnson.

“If that’s you, Tassie—” I began, but the dial tone suddenly blared in my ear.

I slammed down the receiver, convinced that the person who’d called had been none other than Tassie “The Bitch” Johnson. The woman had to be close to forty, but it was clear that she got off on behaving like she was still in junior high.

Oh, I hated her. Hated her with a passion. Instead of Tassie trying to understand that Eli had lied to me about her existence, and accepting the fact that I hadn’t “stolen” him from her, the woman was out for blood. She was living in the multimillion-dollar mansion that Eli had bought while he’d played for the Atlanta Braves. I’m sure she had cars, expensive jewelry and expensive art. Along with her Atlanta home, there were no doubt second and third homes in other cities.

Tassie Johnson didn’t need my condo.

The only reason she was interested in it was because she wanted to make me miserable. Punish me for having been with the man who no longer loved her.

If her petty behavior with me was any indication, it was no wonder she had pushed Eli away. Of course, that didn’t justify Eli’s not telling me about her or the children they’d had together.

I checked the caller ID for the number of the person who had called, certain I’d see a 404 area code. But all it showed was Private Name, Private Number.

That wasn’t surprising. And it didn’t matter. I knew it was Tassie trying to get under my skin. And because I knew that, I didn’t let the phone call bother me.

I headed back to Rayna, who was waiting patiently in the foyer. At two-and-a-half, she rarely waited patiently, which only proved how excited she was to get on with our outing.

“Okay, sweetie,” I said. “Mommy’s ready.”

The phone rang again.

“For crying out loud,” I muttered. I debated not answering it, but if it was Tassie again, I wanted to give her an earful before she had the chance to hang up.

I charged into the living room. Before picking up the receiver, I checked out the caller ID. Seeing my sister’s cell phone number, my anger dissipated and was replaced by confusion. It was minutes to noon. Hadn’t she gone to church?

I put the receiver to my ear and said, “Nikki?”

“What do you mean, I’m unbearable?” my sister asked, and now my eyebrows shot up.

“What?” I said, not at all understanding what was going on.

“Are you forgetting why we have to renew our vows in the first place?” she went on.

I got it then. She obviously wasn’t talking to me. “Hello? Nikki?”

Nikki groaned in frustration. “Vanessa, will you talk some sense into Morris?”

“Nikki, what’s going on?”

Nikki didn’t answer. I heard some shuffling sounds and the faint sound of gospel music. But I also heard the sounds of traffic, making me wonder if they were in the car. If so, the music had to be coming from the radio.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hello?” Morris’s voice.

“What’s going on, Morris?”

“Your sister and I can’t agree on this whole second wedding thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” my sister said in the background. “It’s about our reaffirming of our vows because you fucked up!”

“Nice post-church talk,” I muttered. The minister must not have reminded the parishioners to abstain from cursing, I thought wryly. Morris didn’t hear me, however, because he and Nikki were now bickering back and forth. I caught snippets of, “We’ve been through this,” and “So in your mind everything’s fine?”

I wondered if either of them would notice if I hung up the phone.

I didn’t. Instead, I said, “Morris? Are you still there?”

“Yeah.”

Rayna wandered into the living room and went straight for the box of crayons and pad of paper on the coffee table. One of her favorite things to do was draw pictures.

“I thought you were going to church,” I said.

“We did. But we…had a disagreement.”

“In church?”

“About the wedding,” Morris clarified.

How had they had time to discuss the wedding during the ceremony, much less get into a disagreement? “What exactly is the issue, Morris?”

“I don’t see why we can’t take a trip to Key West with our closest friends. That way, Nikki gets to have her wedding on the beach. And we both get to save a ton of money. She watched some show where a couple got married in Thailand, and suddenly she’s got it in her mind that that’s the only place in the world good enough to renew our vows.”

“You’re lucky I even want to marry you again!” Nikki spat out. “After what you did.”

“Where are the kids?” I asked.

“In the backseat,” Morris replied. “Watching a DVD.”

Good grief. “Put my sister back on the phone.”

After a couple seconds, Nikki came on the line, saying, “You see what I have to deal with? Not only does he cheat, now he’s got to make this difficult, too.”

“Nikki, I understand you’re upset,” I said in a calm voice. “But you have the boys in the car. This kind of fighting in front of them is…well, it’s crazy. You don’t want them all involved in grown folks’ business. Especially not this. Talk to Morris when you get home.”

Nikki didn’t say anything for a moment, which I took to be a good sign. Hopefully I was getting through to her.

“Be glad you’re not in a relationship,” she finally said. “Because men suck.”

“Right, they totally suck,” I said, feigning agreement. Rayna held up a picture with green and blue strokes, and I smiled encouragingly at her. “But please calm down until you get home. Don’t let planning your second wedding send you to divorce court.”

“Vanessa, I’m coming over.”

“What?”

“I can’t deal with Morris right now,” my sister said, her voice cracking. “I just need to be away from him for a while.”

“But I’m on my way out—”

“I’m gonna drop him off and head straight to your place.”

No, not this. Please, God. “Why don’t you call me back when you’ve gotten home?” I suggested. “Make sure the kids are fed or whatever, take a moment to calm down—”

Nikki started to cry.

“Nikki,” I said after several seconds. “Nikki?”

“Morris thinks I’m overreacting,” she sniffed. “Do you think I’m overreacting?”

I didn’t want to answer the question. I didn’t want to answer it truthfully, that is—not with my sister bawling on the other end of my phone line.

So I said, “You’re emotional. That’s understandable. But like I said, you have to calm down. If not for your sake, then for your kids. This can’t be good for them.”

“Okay,” Nikki said, and I heard her inhaling some deep breaths. “You’re right. Mommy’s sorry,” she said to the boys. “I’m just a little bit mad at your dad right now.”

Understatement of the century. “Call me when you get home,” I said. “We’ll talk some more.”

“We’re almost home, so I’ll drop Morris off, then head straight to your place.”

“You’ll what?”

“I really need you right now, Vanessa.” Nikki’s voice broke. “I really need my sister.”

“Yes, but, I made plans. How about later?”

The dial tone sounded in my ear.

Oh, for God’s sake. Had my sister heard me? Was she going to go home and stay there—or would she soon be on her way?

With any luck, Nikki’s spat with Morris would be resolved by the time she got home, and she’d call to tell me that she was no longer coming over.

I reached forward and pulled Rayna into my arms, frowning as I did. Nikki being Nikki, if she did come here and I wasn’t around, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Let’s go zoo!” Rayna said.

Damn, this wasn’t fair. I had a fun day planned for my daughter, and now it was ruined. “Maybe we can go see the monkeys and all the animals another time,” I suggested. “Your cousins are coming over, so you can play with them.”

“Monkeys,” Rayna said, pouting. “Zebras.”

“I know. But, your Auntie Nikki is coming over. And she’s on her way right now, which means we can’t leave.” I kissed Rayna’s temple. “Next weekend, I promise.”

Rayna’s pout grew larger.

Beside me on the sofa were two of her ponies, her favorite toys to play with. I lifted both and gave her one. “How about we play ponies? Is this one Rainbow Dash?” I asked as I held up the green one, knowing full well that this one’s name was not Rainbow Dash.

“No,” Rayna admonished with a smile, happy to be able to correct me. “That’s Minty.”

“That’s right. Green tea.”

“No! Minty.”

“Ohh. Minty.”

“Yes, Minty.”

“Rayna, do you want to play with me?” I asked in a high-pitched voice, prancing Minty around.

Rayna giggled, then began playing with her own pony. We played together for several minutes before I remembered Carla.

“Just a minute, sweetie. Mommy has to make a call.”

I lifted the receiver from beside me on the sofa and punched in the digits to Carla’s number.

“I’m sorry, Carla,” I said after I filled her in. “But you know my sister. And I can live without the headache of her freaking out when she comes over and finds I’m not here.”