When Alec Met Evie (Appies, #6)

by Jenny Proctor

I fight to steady my breathing as I survey the damage in my new house. Every inch of carpet that I can see from the door looks wet, and from what I can see of the kitchen, just visible around the corner, there’s standing water there as well. “Uh-oh,” Ruth says from behind me. “That doesn’t look good.” Emotion pinches my chest, and tears rush to my eyes. My logical brain knows this isn’t the end of the world. That whatever randomly flooded my house, my landlord, who has so far proven to be both helpful and kind, will very likely fix it. But my logical brain checked out somewhere along I-85. Dreaming of this house, this cute little cottage where Juno and I can start over, has been a big motivator through all the stress and emotion of the past few months. I imagined Juno’s room, crib set up next to the big window I saw in the rental listing, a fall breeze fluttering the curtains. I imagined my tiny couch and overstuffed chair positioned in the living room, full of fluffy blankets and throw pillows, warm lamplight casting the room in a cozy glow. That feels so impossibly far from where I am now. I swallowed the missing porch swing. But a flood? I just don’t have it in me. As if to punctuate the hopelessness of the moment with an exclamation point, Juno lets out an extra loud wail, and my milk lets down, seeping through my bra and soaking the thin cotton of my t-shirt. I look down at my leaky, too-large boobs and sigh. “Now, now,” Ruth says quietly beside me, her hand squeezing...