Page 43 of Sweet Nightmare

I mean it.

Without room for negotiation.

But then she looks at me.

Not just looks at me.

She gives me those eyes.

Those devastating, manipulative, criminally effective puppy eyes she’s been using against me since I was five years old and started refusing to wear pink.

I’m convinced they should be illegal.

I can survive snobby Olympic judges.

Heartless fashion critics.

Boring board meetings.

Hell, even more future brunches.

But I cannot survive that face.

“Mom…”

Before I can completely surrender, a familiar voice slices through the mom’s rose garden.

“Oh my God! Is she doing it? Did she say yes?”

I slowly turn.

Stevie is marching toward us dressed in a red strawberry print sundress with a puffy pink snow jacket over it.

“Arty!” she squeals. “Say yes to Seoul!”

Slowly...

Very slowly...

My eyes narrow.

“You’re involved in this?”

Stevie grins proudly. “I prefer the term emotionally invested.”

“Really?” I say through gritted teeth.

“Of course. I love you soooooo much.”

“That’s not an answer, Stevie.”

“It absolutely is, Artemis.” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “I just think a spontaneous trip to South Korea could sweeten your mood, my sweet grump.”

I ignore her and look at Mom. She suddenly becomes fascinated by a pastellilo de guayaba.

I look back at Stevie.

She’s whistling happily. Too happy.