I made a bet with Has on Twitter about something. If she won, she would get a snippet. She lost, so this is a very short consolation prize.
A car turned onto our street and slid to a stop in front of our house. The window rolled down and Andrea stuck her blond head out. “I’m free! Free!”
Oh boy. “Aren’t you supposed to be on bed rest?” I could’ve sworn Raphael told me Doolittle confined her to bed.
“Screw that. We’re going to lunch.”
“It’s past lunch time.”
“Then we’re going to dinch. Or lunner. Or whatever the hell early dinner late lunch stupid combo we can come up with.”
Andrea’s eyes blazed. “Kate, I’m nine months pregnant and I’m hungry. Get into the damn car.”
I got into the car and Andrea pealed out like a bat out of hell.
“We’re going to Pantheon. We’re going to have gyros.” Her stomach was out so far, she must’ve moved the seat back, because she had to stretch to reach the wheel.
“The look of grim determination on your face is scary,” I told her.
“I’ve been cooped up in Keep’s infirmary for the past two weeks,” Andrea said.
She waved her hand. “Because Doolittle is a worrywart.”
Crap. “Andrea, does Doolittle know where you are?”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely. I’ve let him know. Anyway, we are going to lunch!”
“To lunch!” She flashed her teeth at me.
I shut up and let her drive.