Page 106 of Hate To Be Mine

“Flight attendants on private flights don’t do that.” He shrugged. “Now who looks silly?”

I snorted. “My bad. Forgot about you rich bitches.”

That made him laugh again. “Okay, what about planes crashing?”

“You’re supposed to save yourself first so you can save others. The oxygen mask. You put it on before you put it on your kids.”

“That sounds selfish.”

“No, because who’s going to save the kids if you’re dead? Everyone is going to be busy taking care of themselves.”

He stared at me. “Wow. Dark. Why are we talking about this?”

“Sorry. Safety girl.”

“Alright, so we need to get ourselves some supplies, right?” he asked, grinning. “That was the point of your story about kids who can’t breathe?”

“Yes, essentially. I don’t need candles, but I am hungry.”

“Let’s see what’s left in the food tent after Prego got her hands on it.”

“Cookie’s pregnant?” I asked with a combination of shock and horror. “Seriously?”

Sebastian laughed. “No. I’m pretty sure that would qualify as a medical miracle. Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth is pregnant?!”

“Yes. It’s kind of a secret. She just told the family at dinner the other night.”

“That explains the pickles and pudding,” I said.

“Oh God. The what?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, I happened to pop into the tent to get some water, and she was dipping pickles in chocolate pudding.”

“That’s a brave choice,” Sebastian said. “I dare you to try it.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “If that’s all that’s left, we’re both trying it.”

We ran to the food tent, laughing as the drizzle turned into actual rain. By the time we ducked under the canvas, we were both soaked.

“Okay, grab what you can,” Sebastian said, already pulling open coolers and rummaging through bins.

I grabbed a canvas tote bag from one of the supply shelves and started loading up. Water bottles. Protein bars. A bag of chips. Some fruit that looked like it would survive without refrigeration. Sebastian was doing the same, filling his arms with supplies like we were preparing for the apocalypse instead of a tropical storm.

“Is this overkill?” I asked, looking at our haul.

“Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it,” he said, echoing my own safety-first philosophy back at me.

“Did you just quote me?”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

The rain was coming down harder now, drumming against the tent canvas. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“We should get inside,” I said.

“Your place or mine?”