Charlie Robin Styles [Addition to We're Having Our Baby]

Trouble for Charlie

Emma's P.O.V. Charlie 16, Sophia 7, Avery 4

"Charlie, get down here!" I yell from the basement, knowing she can hear me from the living room where she's been watching Paw Patrol with Avery all morning.

"Coming!" She makes her way down the stairs and I can tell she immediately knows what I called her down here for.

"I've been asking you for a week to clean up the basement."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I keep forgetting," she tells me.

"That's why you should have done it as soon as I asked," I sigh.

"I'll do it now."

"Thank you. I'm going to make lunch; do you want anything?"

"No, I'll just make something after I'm done," she responds.

"Okay."

Later in the day, after the kids, Harry, and I have eaten, I go back down to the basement to start going through Christmas decorations. By the looks of it, Charlie did a good job cleaning up the basement where she had a few friends over for an early birthday party. However, when I enter the storage room where we keep the decorations, I find that she shoved most of the mess into a storage bin and put it in the corner.

The bin is in front of what I think is the box with the tree ornaments, so I push it to the side, ignoring my daughter's laziness for the time being. When the bin is out of the way, I find an old shoebox that was hidden behind the bin.

Thinking the box is empty and just needs throwing away, I pick it up to put to the side, so I remember to toss it later. However, when I pick it up I feel something shift from the inside, so of course I open the shoebox to find out what that something is.

To say I'm shocked is an understatement. As soon as I open the box, I'm met with an overwhelming smell of weed. In the box is a lighter, a bowl, a small container of weed, and even a bag of edible gummies.

My first thought goes to Charlie, but there's no way that Charlie would be smoking pot. We've talked about drugs before, and I trust her judgment and friends not to make risky choices. Maybe it's Harry's and he misplaced it or accidently left it here one night. That would be pretty irresponsible of him though... I try convincing myself that it's Harry's, but either way I have to confront him about it.

Not wanting to bring the box upstairs in front of the kids, I text Harry asking to meet me in the basement.

Emma: Hey baby, can you come downstairs to the storage room please? I have a question.

Harry: I'm in the middle of playing dress up with Soph, can you text me?

Emma: That's cute, but I need you down here.

Harry: Okay, be there in a minute. Just as a warning though, I'll be dressed as Sven.

I chuckle reading his last text. Sophia loves to sweet talk Harry into dressing up with her. This past Halloween we all went as Frozen characters and Soph thought the Sven costume was hilarious, which it is, so now she makes Harry wear it at least once a week.

"What's up?" Harry opens the door to the storage room and sees me holding the shoebox.

"Is this yours?" I ask, handing over the box.

"No?" He looks at the box puzzled, not giving me a good feeling.

"Are you sure?" I ask, getting increasingly worried.

"I don't know what this is, Em."

"Open it," I tell him.

Once he lifts the lid, his brows shoot up and his eyes widen, coming to the same realization I am.