She sighed again, exasperated. “Like I’ll be able to find a sitter at this short notice. It’s Saturday afternoon, Grant. Besides, if I could get a sitter, I’d go to the spa or the mall or the gym or anywhere but your brother’s apartment.”

“Cora—” he started, but she cut him off, her tone shrill and exhausted.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you come home and watch your children and then I can go?”

Their three children—fourteen-month-old twins and a month-old singlet—were enough to exhaust an Olympic athlete. It was no wonder Cora was tired. She had no help, because he’d been working ridiculous hours. Guilt pierced him. Sometimes he hated his job. Especially in March and April.

He gentled his voice. “Tell you what, honey. I’ll get you a sitter and I’ll go to Wes’s to check on him. You can take the afternoon to do anything you want to do.”

“I want to have a few hours with you,” she whispered. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, baby,” he said regretfully, understanding why a third of his peers were divorced. He hoped he could make it up to her after April fifteenth. “Soon we’ll have a lot of time. I’m sorry.”

She sighed again, this one sounding defeated. “I know. I’m sorry to be demanding. I know you’re upset about Wesley. I’m just so tired.”

“I know, baby. I’ll find you a sitter.”

“That’s okay, Grant. I’ll get some sleep when I put them all down for a nap. Go check on your brother. We’re fine here.”

“I love you. I don’t deserve you.”

She chuckled, and he felt better. “I love you, too. And no, you don’t. Call me when you find Wes.”

“I will.” Grant disconnected, then grabbed his keys and wallet. “MaryBeth?” She met him in the hallway, clearly curious about his visitor, but too polite to ask. “Does your niece still do nanny work?”

“Au pair,” she corrected primly. “And yes. She’s just returned from a year in Germany. Would you like me to send her to your house?”

He smiled. “Yes, please. And call my wife to let her know that she’s coming. I’ll be back soon.” He hoped.

He gave a last look at his desk, its surface barely visible under all the stacks of tax returns. Goddammit, Wes. Couldn’t you have fallen off the wagon on April sixteenth?

Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 1:05 p.m.

Keenly aware of the big man behind her, Dani walked to her office and sat behind her desk, waiting until Diesel came in and closed the door. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. Do to him. But she knew any relationship with Diesel Kennedy would only end in heartbreak for both of them.