“Call me when it’s time to pick up your demented dogs.” “About that,” Mam sniffled. “You lied, didn’t you?” I gave her an accusing glare. “You don’t have to pick Bonnie and Cupcake up at all tonight, do you?” Of course, she lied. One look at her sheepish expression and it was plain to see. “You meddler,” I accused. “You sexer,” Mam shot back in a tone as equally accusing. For fuck’s sake. I wasn’t going to win here. Holding my hands up in defeat, I hurried out of the kitchen before she drowned me in a fresh batch of tears.
