What am I supposed to say? No. I can’t because Amelia is four and can’t exactly stay home alone. So, here I am, packing up her stuff to head to Grayson’s house and spend another night with her.

“It’s fine.”

She sighs with relief. “You’re the best. Truly. I thought I could get back, but the storm is bad, and I can’t see with the sheeting rain.”

“I understand.”

Even if I hate the idea of sleeping at his place, Amelia needs clean clothes and she’s bored here.

“Thank you, Jess. I know this isn’t easy for you since you and Gray have history, but . . .”

“It’s really okay. We’re friends, and this is what friends do.”

The thunder echoes in the background, punctuating that thought. “I have to go.”

“Be safe, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Amelia comes rushing in, a big smile on her face. “Are we going to my house?”

“We are.”

“Yay!” She jumps up and down. “I can show you all my toys. I have a lot of them because Daddy says I’m cute.”

And she is. Just then a horn honks, and I grab our bags and hold out my hand. “Ready to go?”

Delia, the lifesaver she is, came to drive us over so we didn’t have to walk. We get in the car, and I strap Amelia into her booster seat. When I climb into the front, Delia is staring at me, giving me a dubious look.

“Don’t say a word,” I warn.

She grins. “What would I even say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nope. Nothing. I have nothing to say about this.”

“Good. Then say nothing.”

Delia looks in the rearview mirror. “Do you have anything to say, Melia?”

Melia smiles. “I love dolls.”

“Yes, it’s fun to pretend, isn’t it, Jessica?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes.”

She continues on. “I like to pretend that my best friend is going to find her prince someday. He’s tall, has dark hair, and the bluest eyes.”

Amelia perks up. “My daddy has blue eyes.”

Delia gasps. “He does?”

“And he’s tall.”

“Look at that.”

“So much for not a word,” I say out of the corner of my mouth.

She ignores me, making a right onto Grayson’s street. “Do you think my friend should tell him she loves him?”

Amelia nods vigorously. “And she should kiss him!”

“She should?”

I want to throw myself from this car. “Kissing boys isn’t a good idea,” I try to inject some reasoning into this asinine conversation.

“That’s true,” Delia agrees. “I think she might love him, though, and if she does, she should kiss him before his evil mother gives her poison.”

“Oh Jesus,” I mutter.

“She has to have a kiss!” Amelia agrees.

“Yes, because then, maybe my friend will wake up and see what’s really happening.”