Harrison could only stare at his father. He’d been satisfied with how little attention Bubbles had paid to the lit candles as long as they were on tabletops and well out of reach, but to his knowledge, his father refused to have anything to do with the candle schedule. In fact, he’d taken one look at it posted on the refrigerator and muttered his intention to invite the raccoon inside to put an end to this whole sorry mess.

“Maybe you should bring me a bacon one,” his dad added.

Sophie laughed. “Dawn doesn’t make those, unfortunately. But I’ll bring you a cedar-and-bergamot scented one tomorrow—it’s just as calming, but the fragrance is a lot more understated. Well, Harrison, are we ready?”

Wait—that was it? He paused, waiting for those promises of telling Sophie off, of taking a stand against encroaching tablecloths, but his dad wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

The coward. All that talk at the bar had been nothing but braggadocio. His father could no more stand up to Sophie Vasquez than Harrison could.

Not that he could blame his father. She’d shown up this morning with her shoulders fully covered by a long-sleeved athletic shirt—a thing he’d noted with profound relief. Unfortunately, she’d paired it with a pair of running pants with inexplicable bands of sheer material wrapped around her thighs. How was that even a thing? Her legs were technically covered against the biting spring wind, but those fabric windows offered glimpses of skin and muscle that no one should have to face this early in the morning.

At least, not without a cold shower first. An arctic one, in fact. A painful, plunging descent into numbness.

“Are we sure this is such a good idea?” Harrison asked, casting a careful look at first Bubbles and then his father. Bubbles was still too intrigued by the rubber chicken to notice she was about to be abandoned, but the realization would come soon enough—and so would the howls of betrayal. “He was only halfway kidding about that box thing. She’s going to cry.”

Sophie tilted her head and stared at them. “Of course she is. You just have to think of it like dropping a kid off at daycare.”

“Daycare?” his dad echoed.

“Yeah—you know. While the parents are watching, the kid acts like the world is going to end. Then, the second Mom and Dad finally tear themselves away in their guilt and despair, the kid shrugs it off and has a perfectly good time. Didn’t you ever have to leave Harrison with someone?”