Page 45 of From Maybe to Baby

I might be in trouble

That good, huh?

"Miss Minty?" Jace tugs my hand. "Will you help us look for the princess?"

"I... I have work to do." The words are gritty in my mouth. Sour. Like bad milk. "Articles to write."

"You can write about our princess," Lukas suggests. "For your 'search."

"Research," Jonas corrects. "And I'm sure Miss Minty has other activities to observe."

But he's watching, and the man is no dummy. He sees my panic. Because of course he does. He sees everything.

My phone buzzes again:

Mom:

How's paradise?

I don't do domestic

Sounds like domestic is doing you

"Please?" Both kids deploy maximum pleading power.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

I look at my phone, at my notebook filled with crossed-out work notes, at these two tiny humans who somehow sneaked past my defenses before I could stop them. Or myself.

I don’t do domestic. I definitely don’t do instant family. And I absolutely don’t do complicated entanglements with hot single dads who read my work, make dad jokes, and have the audacity to look at me like…

Like that. Like he’s looking at me right now.

“I should go,” I say abruptly, standing so fast I almost knock over the chair. The kids look up, wide-eyed and confused, and for a moment, guilt tugs at me.

But I shove it down. This is exactly why I don’t mess with family dynamics. Adults are fair game, but kids? Kids are off-limits.

“Work to do. Articles to write. Very professional things,” I add, waving vaguely at my phone like it’s some kind of lifeline.

“Alexa—” Jonas starts, but I cut him off.

“Tomorrow?” Jace says hopefully, her big eyes locking onto mine. Totally oblivious to the grown-up discomfort unfolding around of her.

I glance at my carefully constructed life—the one I’ve built on rules, detachment, and a strict three-day cap on emotional entanglements. I should walk away. Ineedto walk away.

But then there’s Jonas, watching me with those stupidly blue eyes. And for a guy who doesn’t seem like a talker, his silence says way too much.

“No pressure,” he says, his voice calm, steady. But the look in his eyes? It’s trouble. The kind I can’t afford.

My phone buzzes again, and I glance down.

Ryan:

*Tell me you’re getting good material

*Too good. That’s the problem

Jace tugs on my sleeve. “Princess hunting tomorrow?”

---