Chapter 22

Harlow

By the time we get home from the cabin, Mia’s got cracker dust in her hair, my lower back feels like somebody swapped my spine for hot wire, and the boys are sitting low enough to make every car ride feel like they’re trying to tunnel out through my hips.

So naturally, I spend the first ten minutes back in our kitchen arguing with a florist about ranunculus.

“Too fussy,” I tell the woman ov