Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

you, I had extenuating circumstances.” I protested.
    “I’m all ears.” He said, attacking his eggs with his fork.
    “I did try to text you,” I repeated. “But I kept getting message not sent . What the heck’s up with that?”
    He sighed. “I reached my texting limit, so I’ve disabled it for a few days.”
    “Seriously? You can do that?”
    “Yes. Everyone can do that,” he said, still looking annoyed.
    “Wow. I wish I had known that sooner. I had to up my text messages to unlimited while Gus was in Chicago. He maxed me out the first week he was there.”
    Paul continued stabbing his eggs. “You have me here in person. Why don’t you just tell me?”
    I rubbed my belly and thought about how much I was ready to tell him. I was pretty sure Paul was the father of my baby—or, at least, he contributed the human DNA. And I was really hoping he was the only DNA contributor, other than me. With the odd way the baby was maturing, I had real fears about that last part.
    But Paul was having a difficult enough time dealing with everything that had happened. Being possessed by a demon was hard enough on him. The last thing he needed was to find out that he had become a baby daddy in the process.
    Besides, I really wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. Maybe I could put it off awhile longer. Like, until after the baby started kindergarten.
    Unfortunately, I was pretty sure that trying to brush Paul off with an off-the-cuff remark wasn’t going to do much to improve his mood either. And since the best lies are rooted in truth… I decided I might as well go with nausea.
    “I think I had a bad shrimp the other night. My stomach’s still feeling rough. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to make it this morning, but I really wanted to see you.”
    Just then, the waitress showed up with a pot of coffee. She refilled Paul’s cup and turned towards me. To follow through on my half-lie, I ordered chamomile tea and toast.
    Then I turned my attention back to Paul. “So, how are you doing?”
    He sighed, put his fork down and ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, I guess.”
    I nodded, sympathetically. “Want to talk about it?”
    “It’s been kind of weird.” He leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “The worst part is the dreams. How do you deal with them?”
    “I think I have it easier. My dreams aren’t like yours.”
    “Are you kidding me? You don’t get nightmares?”
    I thought about it. “Sometimes.”
    “Aha! So you do get them.”
     “Not as much as I used to.”
    I didn’t need to revisit last summer in dreamscape. I had a constant reminder of the situation growing inside me. Paul and I had been possessed for a bit—long story!—and while I had been able to deal with it, thanks to my witchy genes, Paul was a normal human. Which left him with massive gaps in his memories and what I had come to refer to as PPSD (Post-Possession Stress Disorder). When he wasn’t confused, haunted and plagued by nightmares, he was twitchy, jumpy and anxious. He went from having a sunny disposition to being short-tempered with occasional bouts of rage.
    “What about those deja vu moments?” He pressed on. “Where you'll see something and it’ll set off memory fragments? Something that you’d swear you’ve never seen, done or said before, but somehow, it’s familiar? Like you’re living through something twice? Don’t those drive you insane? Or the crazy flashbacks, where you feel like you’re trapped and you’ll never get out?”
    I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “I don’t have the same problems. I remember all of it, so my mind’s not reaching out, trying to fill in the blanks.”
    “Liar. You just said you have nightmares.”
    “Rarely. For me, living it was the nightmare. I don’t get the deja vu moments. I get flashbacks sometimes, but I tell myself they’re not real and they go away.”
    “What are you fucking made of? Teflon?” Paul shook his head. “I wish I