I rub both hands over my face. The chill is getting to me. “You,” I tell Mr. Rochester. “Should be inside, with your leg up, taking pain medicine. And you,” I tell Mateo. “Thank you for the visit, but honestly, I’m fine. You’re more than fine, but I would have to pass on coffee.”

Grass crunches under my feet as I stalk away. Am I crazy for just turning down a potential coffee date with Mateo Garza? I still can’t quite believe he was interested in me. No, it seemed like they had some kind of testosterone war going on.

Mr. Rochester got jealous about Oliver and Lucas, too. It’s kind of a thing with him. It makes me wonder if he got cheated on at some point.

Still fuming, and confused, I bang open the front door and take off my boots. I bypass the kitchen and head into one of the sitting rooms. The one where Mr. Rochester and I spent an evening together. Where I spread my legs and he licked me until I came.

I avoid the sofa but instead sit on the large armchair.

After a minute small feet pad behind me.

A mop of dirty blonde hair appears by my side. Along with an impish grin. She doesn’t say anything as she climbs onto the chair with me, using my arm, my shoulder, my legs, as her personal jungle gym. Some of my frustration fades. Children have that magic.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing.” I make a funny face to distract her. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“What did that man want from you?” The distraction failed.

“Oh, he came to the dinner party last night. Do you remember him? He just wanted to talk to me about something real quick. Grown-up things.”

That earns me a massive eye roll. Honestly, the attitude on this six-year-old. I don’t even know what’s going to happen when she becomes a teenager. Will she create more attitude? Or is that impossible? I shouldn’t find it so endearing. My heart sinks. I won’t know her then. “Grown-up things. Mommy was always talking about grown-up things. I couldn’t be in the room.”

Caution invades me, but I focus on looking casual. She doesn’t bring up her mother very often. And she brings up her father even less. I have to tread carefully. I googled some articles on how to deal with children with grief. It said to let them open up when they were ready. Don’t push but don’t shut down the conversation if they want to talk, either.

“What is so interesting about grown-up stuff?” she asks. “I saw Mommy’s diary one time and it was all about B says this and R says that. So much talking.”