When dinner was ready, Mark tactfully told Smore to get his mother. With Smore taking up this quest, he was not the slightest bit worried that Arianne might not want to come out.
Reality proved him right. Defenseless against Smore’s surfeit of Cute Tactics-babyish singing, dancing, all things an adorable toddler does, Arianne subsequently opened the door and came out. When her eyes met the smugness and provocative beckoning in his, she retaliated by eye-rolling in his face before filtering him out of her sight.
Mary watched them wordlessly, adding no commentary about the whole situation except a tentative question, “Looks like you ain’t going nowhere later, huh? It’s pouring cats and dogs out there.”
Mark nodded. “You’re right, I’m bound. It’s pouring.”
Arianne was not going to believe that excuse in a million years, so she turned to the window and looked on skeptically-and realized that they were right! For some reason, a downpour had loomed over them since she-had-no-idea-when. But wasn’t the weather just a few minutes before this all bright and peachy? What sort of coincidence was this?
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