Seventeen （B）: Harlow

SEVENTEEN (B)

HARLOW

Y ards of fuzzy brown fleece and robin blue buttons lay scattered on the nursery floor.

My fingers were numb from hours of needlework, but I was too wired and livid to stop.

Bzzzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

“Hello?” I answered my phone without looking at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Sasha asked.

“Sewing an army of Binky Bunnies.”

“Um, okay…Why?”

“Because I need to get this done before the twins wake up,” I said.

“So, you’re not slipping out to join me in the lobby for ‘Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde’ tequilas?”

“After I’m finished.”

“Harlow, I’m already downstairs, and it’s ten o’clock.”

“ After I’m finished.” I stabbed the needle through the pacifier, giving the first bunny a new eye.

“Would you like me to come up and help you sew, then?”

“Yes, please, but we can’t talk about anything except these bunnies. We must make sure each one is one-hundred-percent perfect.”

“ Oh god , Harlow…” She sighed. “Tell the security guy to let me onto the elevator.”

It was four in the morning when we completed our first set. I compared the picture of the custom pacifier to our editions and couldn’t spot a single difference.

Two down, twenty to go.