I throw the last pair of shoes into my suitcase. I leave tomorrow for the conference.
“I think that’s it.”
“Did you get your toothbrush?” Patrick asks as he lies on his stomach on my bed, beside my suitcase.
“Not yet. I still have to use it. I’ll pack it in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“So Grandma will be here when you get home from school,” I remind him.
“Yes, yes, I know,” he says with an eye roll. “And I have to call you the moment Harry’s naughty or if Fletcher gets short tempered.” He sighs as he recites my orders.
“Yes, that’s right.”
Little do his brothers know, but Patrick is also my tattletale. I know what his brothers have done before they even finish doing it.
I have three sons. Fletcher is seventeen and has taken on the unofficial job as my personal bodyguard. Harry is thi
