Whitney flinched when the bedroom door slammed. The downstairs neighbors were probably tired of hearing that sound. Whitney was definitely over it.

Amelia had always been independent.

When she was a little girl, Whitney would reach out when they were about to cross the street, close her fingers around Amelia’s. But Amelia would pry them off and step away, running across the street by herself. Dan thought it was funny. Called her Little Miss Independent. Said it showed confidence. Whitney thought it showed defiance. Irresponsibility. It terrified her. She would have nightmares of Amelia getting run over by cars—visions of her little body unmoving on the pavement filling her dreams. Whenever they went somewhere, Whitney spent the entire time on edge, nervous and sweaty. Finally, Whitney gave in and bought one of those harnesses. Dan was so angry. Said there was no way she was leashing their daughter as if she was a dog. Whitney argued that it was better than having her dead on the street. They never did come to an agreement. It was one of many fights they got into about how to parent Amelia.

When Whitney’s phone buzzed, she snatched it up to see Jay’s name on the screen. She smiled.

“Hey.” She pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hey,” he parroted. “Whatcha doing?”

Whitney’s heart flipped at the flirty lilt to his voice. She glanced down at the sink of dirty dishes she was about to tackle and frowned. That wasn’t sexy. “Um...” Whitney racked her brain for a flirty response but came up blank. Finally, she answered with the truth. “Actually, I was just about to do some dishes.”

“Hmm. I love when you talk dirty to me.”

She laughed, grateful that he never made her feel stupid for her boring life. “I’ve got a lot more where that came from.” Sinking into a nearby kitchen chair, she spoke in a sultry voice. “After the dishes, I plan to do some laundry, maybe pick up the family room and then I’ve got some work to do for Natalie.”

“You work too hard,” Jay responded.

“The life of a single mom. What are you gonna do?” She laughed.

“You could have your daughter help you. Surely, she knows how to do dishes, right?”

Whitney bristled at the statement. Why did men always feel the need to give their opinion without being asked? Judge how she did things? It was a huge part of the reason she hadn’t wanted to date when Amelia was younger. Whitney finally had control over how she ran her household. No way was she giving it up. It was hard enough with Amelia’s actual dad. Imagine how much worse it would be with a man who had no tie to her at all.