Walking into the dining room, I force a smile on my face. I’ll need to find a polite way of asking Elise and Grant when they’ll be checking out of here and getting back on a flight to Philadelphia so I can breathe again. The longer they’ve stayed, the more comfortable I’ve started to feel around them, but I can’t expect Travis to keep up our charade much longer.

Shit, his dad could be coming home soon, and that would be a disaster.

Elise waves when she sees me. She and Grant both have glasses of orange juice and plates of eggs Florentine in front of them. I slide into one of the empty seats at their table, setting down my coffee as I say hi.

“This breakfast is delicious,” Elise tells me. She slices her fork through a poached egg, letting the yolk flow out and over the spinach-topped English muffin. “And your chef is so sweet.”

Sweet? Addison? She’s an amazing cook, but I wouldn’t dare describe her as sweet. Especially not to her face. She must be charming them for my benefit.

“I’m lucky to have her here,” I say. Which is at least true.

We chat for a couple minutes, and then I tell them I should be getting back to work. I still haven’t found a way to ask how long they’re staying. Since they’re using one of the rooms here, it’s a valid question. I need to know when I can start booking the room again. But I’m afraid they’ll see me asking as rude.

“So,” I say as I push my seat back, getting ready to stand. “I imagine you’ll need to get back to work soon, won’t you?”

Grant sets down his fork. “Actually, I’ve arranged it so that I can stay as long as necessary.”

“Necessary?” I almost squeak. What the heck is that supposed to mean?

I’d mostly stopped worrying that they came here to spy on my parenting and business skills, but those fears come rushing back quickly. Was it foolish to let my guard down?

Elise offers me what is probably meant to be a reassuring smile. “He only means that we’re enjoying our time here with you and May, so we haven’t exactly set an end date for our trip yet.”

“Oh.”

“Also, I heard about the brunch you hold here on Mother’s Day, and I’d like the chance to share that with May. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Oh,” I repeat, the word sticking a bit in my throat this time. Yes, I think I do mind, but I can’t say that. Because how messed up would it be for me to deny May the opportunity to celebrate Mother’s Day for the first time? I’m not that selfish. But the idea of it fills my stomach with rocks.