“I guess, but I still get nightmares and don’t want to scare her.”

“You won’t. I promise. She would sleep through an entire army marching through her room.”

I release a heavy sigh. That was my last excuse. “All right. As long as you swear Grayson is fine with it.”

She grabs her phone, types something out, and then waits. Her foot tapping.

Then my phone pings with a North Carolina area code.

Unknown: It’s Gray. I swear it’s fine, just don’t listen to her if she says she’s allowed to eat KitKats for dinner.

Me: I am not that gullible.

Grayson: She’s just that convincing.

Stella clears her throat. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

I grab my bag, and we leave to pick up Amelia from the daycare before heading to Stella’s. She chats a mile a minute, telling us all about her day, what she ate—where she mentions KitKats—and how excited she is that I’m going to be watching her.

Stella shows me around her loft, pointing out a few key things, and then gives me her cell number before leaving.

Amelia plops herself on the couch, grabbing the remote. “Auntie Stella lets me watch cartoons.”

I am so out of my element. After the texting with Grayson, I’m not sure how much I should believe from her. “Yeah? Which ones?”

“Not scary ones.”

“How about we watch it together?” I offer.

Melia pats the seat beside her. “I like the funny one with the singing cat.”

Singing cats sound like a safe territory. Although, Tom and Jerry weren’t exactly the model we should’ve followed regarding how to treat others.

Once I’m seated, Melia scoots closer, snuggling into my side. She’s such a sweet kid.

“We only have about twenty minutes before we head to your dance class.”

She grins. “I love dance. Daddy says I’m the best in the class.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Mrs. Butler isn’t a nice teacher.”

“I had Mrs. Butler when I was a little girl.” She was a horrible woman then, so I’m not surprised she still sucks.

How she’s still in business is a mystery. Then again, it’s not like there are any other options in town.

“Did she smile then?”

I laugh. “Not once.”

Melia changes the channels until she finds her show. “This is the singing cat. His name is Winston, and he’s afraid of spiders.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I don’t like them either, but Daddy isn’t afraid. He’s not afraid of anything.”

Except me.

I smile at her. “He has to be afraid of something.”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Not even snakes?”

Amelia grins. “Nope.”

“What about fire?”

“He’s a firefighter, silly.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I say, trying to appear pensive. “What about . . . storms?”