"I've had three cups," I say, narrowing my eyes.

"You need a fourth," she quips, her sarcasm cutting through my mental fog. If I wasn't awake ten seconds ago, I am now.

"What should I make Davey for breakfast?" she asks, strolling towards the refrigerator with a casual grace. "Tell me what he likes."

"He likes everything—cereal, eggs, oatmeal, fruit."

“Okay,” she says, reaching into the refrigerator. “I can make Japanese omelets. Does that work for you?”

“You know how to make tamagoyaki?”

“I do,” she replies with a warm smile. “I can also whip up miso soup, tamago kake gohan, natto, rice, and grilled fish.”

“I’m impressed,” I say, mirroring her smile. Could it be that last night’s misstep is beginning to fade?

“I told you," she says, her blue eyes reassuring. "I prepared for your arrival."

“What else did you learn just for us?” I ask, my admiration clear.

"A lot," she says, brushing past me, "but some things you'll never get the chance to know."

"Aah," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Is this supposed to be your 'gotcha' moment?"

"No," she says simply. "I've just realized that I might have wasted my time, so I won't be investing more than the bare minimum into this landlord-tenant-nanny relationship."

"Lily, this passive-aggressive attitude is beneath you."

"How would you know? You never gave yourself a chance to truly get to know me, so stop with the empty remarks."

"I'll be in the office if you need me," I say, striving to keep my composure and not lose my temper.

"Don’t worry," she replies, her voice steady, "I don't need anything from you."

I turn and walk away, the sinking feeling in my gut telling me that last night’s misstep wasn’t just a lapse in judgment—it was a colossal mistake that will cost me dearly.

Back in my office, I try to convince myself that keeping a safe distance from Lily is the only way to ensure that last night’s disaster won’t repeat itself.

I sit in front of my laptop and watch the minutes tick by, unable to type a single word as inspiration eludes me.

"Daddy!" Davey's little voice pierces through my gloom, bringing a smile to my face despite the blank screen on my laptop and the knot tightening in my stomach.

"Good morning, Buddy. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yep!" he says, climbing onto my lap. "Are you going to eat breakfast with me and Lily?"

It's time to face the music.

As soon as we enter the kitchen, the aroma of bacon and syrup fills the air. Lily is pouring orange juice into glasses, and the table is set with a spread that makes my mouth water. A stack of pancakes, bacon, and tamagoyaki are arranged neatly on a platter, inviting us to dig in.

"Do you want juice or milk?" Lily asks, addressing Davey. I wish she were speaking to me.

"Milk, please," Davey chimes in.

Lily spends the next half hour engrossed in conversation with Davey, barely acknowledging me except when I force her to with a direct question. Her smile is fixed and bright, but it only lights up when she speaks to Davey. I feel the tension building; her blue gaze clearly reflects her displeasure with me.

"So your parents live in Mexico," I say, recalling our conversation about Mérida.

"Only my dad," she corrects me softly. "Mom passed away three years ago."