The lives of Olivia and Rayden Reed are about to take a captivating turn when a figure from their past reemerges, igniting a whirlwind of emotions and buried secrets. Malia, a woman they once loved and lost, returns after eight long years with a dar...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You know we'll regret this later, right?" I muse from the driver's seat, savoring the last scoop of my dessert. Meylin is currently in the passenger seat, looking like a mess with chocolate ice cream smeared all over her face.
I'd made a deal - ice cream for good behavior and silence about this little detour to her mothers. Evidently, clean eating wasn't part of the deal.
"I know, but why is creamy goodness such a hazard?" she wonders aloud, finishing her cone. Catching her reflection in the rearview mirror, she gasps, "Do you have wet wipes? I can't let the ladies see me like this."
"In the glove compartment," I instruct. She dives in, fishing out a wet wipe faster than you can say 'chocolate catastrophe'.
As we approach the store, its shimmering exterior gives the supermarket-mall combo a Las Vegas flair for shoppers. Inside, it's every bit as bustling, with families buzzing about, kids tugging at their parents towards toy aisles, and announcements about sales blaring overhead.
And right in the center? A giant pencil sculpture, because nothing screams 'school supplies' like a towering wooden pencil.
I had made a promise: a quick in-and-out mission for school supplies as mandated by Malia. But judging by the allure of the mall section with its flashy neon lights, I can see the challenge ahead.
"Dad, do you need one of these?" Meylin suggests, pointing towards the row of electric scooters meant for senior citizens or those with mobility issues.
"How old do you think I am, Child?" I feign offense but can't keep a straight face. "You know what? Let's roll in style." I plop down into a scooter, Meylin joining suit in the one next to me.
A few people glance in our direction, and I meet their gaze just as resolutely. I don't criticize how you raise your kids, so don't criticize me. Besides, I'm not here to be a cookie-cutter parent. As long as we're not causing harm, people should keep their noses out of our business.
"This isn't some sort of scooter felony, is it?" Mey's eyes widen as she questions.
Before I can contemplate the moral implications, we're zooming at a grand 5 mph down the aisles.
She swerves smoothly around a lady, leaving me to brake suddenly. "Ah, come on! We're on a mission here!" My daughter yells, and I give her a stern look to remind her about her manners. She quickly covers her mouth, chuckling.
"Our bad," I beam an apologetic grin the woman's way. As she departs with a huff, I lean in to Meylin, whispering, "Maybe just a little nudge wouldn't have hurt her."
"That's ten points on Auntie Raven's chart," she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
I arch an eyebrow. "What chart?"
She shrugs. "The one she jokes about when people jaywalk. She doesn't actually do it, of course."
"Auntie Raven makes me question a lot of things," I admit, hoping my daughter isn't getting caught up in any of Raven's antics. I'd vouch for Meylin, but I can't speak for anyone else.
