“You’re not on fire!” I yelled. “Bugsy is!”
“Bugsy!” Viera screamed. “You kill Bugsy!”
With Viera still in my arms I searched the cupboards as both kids started screaming for me to save Bugsy.
I was about to call the fire department when I was shoved out of the way by a shirtless Rip. He held the extinguisher over the stove and sprayed white foam over the flaming dragon.
The fire was out instantly.
“You killed him!” Viera sniffled again. “He tail!”
“S-sometimes dragons lose their tails…,” I said lamely. “I’m so sorry, Viera, it was an accident, why don’t we go out today and get you a new Bugsy.”
Her response was a shriek that nearly shattered my eardrums.
Rip moved past me again and washed Bugsy off in the sink.
“He’ll have a few burned spots, sweetheart,” he said softly. “But sometimes dragons get hurt. But they breathe fire, so he’s not scared. He’s OK.” He held poor scorched Bugsy out to her. “See?”
A tear slid down her cheek and she screwed up her face again. I braced myself for another eardrum-shattering shriek, but what came out of her mouth was worse.
“I want Mama.” She said it on a sob that was half hiccup, and I felt my heart drop to the floor.
“I know.” Rip’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and for a moment I almost felt compassionate toward him. And then.
“Please tell me you know how to at least work a stove and this was an accident brought on by sleepwalking, stress, day drinking—” The look he gave me was one of pure annoyance at my inability to use a stove and multitask.
“I do!” I argued. “Ben’s starving and he wanted a few eggs so I grabbed the pan—”
“I found it for her,” Ben announced.
Little traitor.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Anyway, I was doing things one handed because Viera was crying and I was just trying.” I took a breath. “I am trying, Rip.”
His green eyes flashed before he muttered, “Try harder.”
I’d nearly forgotten about the casseroles people had dropped off the day before until he turned exactly where I didn’t want him to. Exactly where I’d placed the carton of eggs next to the stove. “Are these for breakfast?”
“Um… see, I have a good reason for them all being out.” I was going to have to lie, then somehow manage to make a billion casseroles during Viera’s nap. There was no way I was admitting I fell asleep and left them out all night.
Too late; he reached out and touched one, then another. “These are all warm. When did you take them out of the fridge?”
“Right.” I licked my dry lips. Great. I was going to have to fess up. “Ben, why don’t you go change into your school clothes real quick while I have a chat with Rip.”
“But what about my eggs?” He groaned and dramatically threw himself over the barstool.
“Today we’re doing cereal, OK? The stove needs to be cleaned, but I’ll let you have Fruit Loops.”
“Yay!” Waving his arms, he began jumping around the room, singing, “I’m having Fruit Loops. Fruit Loops. Just… follow your nose!”
I knew Fruit Loops were reserved for special occasions, but if this wasn’t one, then I had no clue what was.
A birthday?
Christmas?
“Be right back!” Ben announced, racing up the stairs.