“We’re getting there,” I tell her.

“Where?”

I smile. “I mean, yes, we’re building a friendship. In fact, I’m actually helping to pay for his apartment while he gets on his feet. That’s one of the reasons I was so happy to get this job.”

“Whoa. That’s really cool. So you’re like your daddy’s daddy.”

I laugh. She’s so adorable I could melt. Part of me wishes I could rewind time and let her comment on me being her mommy, but it simply wouldn’t be acceptable. “Yes, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Mommy might come back one day. And she’ll say,Let’s go make a story. And I’ll say,Nah-uh, I’m going to make a story with Daddy and Callie.And then she’ll say,I’m really sorry.And I’ll say,Nah-uh, no takebacks.”

My heart breaks, especially with the casual tone she uses. She doesn’t understand how devastating her words are. She doesn’t know how upsetting it is for her to be able to describe such awful family dynamics, such abandonment, without any pain. But this is normal for her, just like it was for me as a kid.

She looks up, her face lighting up. “Ha ha. Hey, Daddy!”

I turn. The red light on the camera is on. How long has he been watching?

Chapter Seven

Gray

That evening, we spend time in the backyard. I read a novel as Callie and Emery walk around naming all the plants. I do my best to focus on the words, to try and lose myself in the story. It’s a thriller, and, usually, I can sink into these narratives quite well. But it’s impossible not to look up from the make-believe world and watch Emery beaming up at Callie, Callie smiling warmly down at her.

Soon, Callie carries Emery to the hammock. My daughter can fall asleep in the time it takes to blink. Callie walks over to me, sits down, and picks up her Kindle.

“I lost that video,” I say.

She looks up and chews at her lip. I wish she’d stop doing that. But I also wish she’d never stop. “Huh?”

“The workout video,” I murmur. “Turns out my phone wasn’t recording.”

“Oh, that’s okay.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence stretches between us. Callie is wearing pale blue jeans and a shirt knotted just below her cleavage. It’s casual attire, not like she’s trying to blow my mind. But she does. Every single moment, she floods me with fantasies and inappropriate thoughts that I definitely shouldn’t have about my child’s nanny.

For a few minutes, we both read. Or try to. Or pretend to. I glance over at her a few times, watching the way she smoothsher hair from her face and how her eyebrows furrow. There’s something so gorgeous about her face when she’s concentrating.

“What’s your book about?” she asks after a while.

“I’m not even sure. I can’t concentrate.”

“Oh. Why not? Are you thinking about something? Maybe something you heard today?” She takes a breath. I can tell she’s been working up to this, especially when she places her Kindle down and looks right at me.

“If you have something to say, Callie, you can say it,” I tell her.

She takes another breath. Her chest rises and falls. I’m a goddamn idiot. Or I’m becoming one. Even now, when she breathes like that, my gaze flits to her chest. I have to drag my mind out of the gutter.

“You heard me talking with Callie about her mom… and my parents?”

I nod. “I did.”

“I didn’t ask her anything about her mom.”

“I know,” I tell her. “I heard the whole thing. Emery doesn’t realize how messed up it is, what Sloane did, running out on her own daughter.”

“I think she does, on some level,” Callie whispers. “She saidno takebacks. But you’re right. She definitely isn’t as upset about it as you might expect.”