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"Maggie, stop," I warn.

“If this continues, I’m taking you to the doctor. I don’t want you sick while you’re on my watch. Before…”

Neither of us say it, but I know what she means.

Before I leave.

The thought catches me off guard.

For weeks, every day has been about Maggie. Finding her. Getting her home. Helping Lucy settle. Dealing with police reports, lawyers, and the mess Tom left behind. I've been so focused on putting out fires that I haven't looked any farther ahead than the next problem waiting to be solved.

Now Maggie's home and Lucy is laughing again.

The world hasn't stopped ending entirely, but it's stopped ending every day, which leaves me with a question I haven't wanted to answer.

What happens when I'm no longer needed here? When remote working becomes a choice rather than a necessity?

Maggie watches me from the corner of her eye.

That alone makes me suspicious. "What?"

She smiles. "You've got that look."

I groan. "Another one? You mean the look you've invented because you're incapable of minding your own business?"

"The very same."

"I hate that look."

"You should. It means I'm right."

I shake my head and continue walking through the market. Maggie sticks to me like glue.

Children weave between stalls carrying bags of candy. Someone's dog trots past wearing a bandana that says BARK RANGER. Near the food trucks, Marco is passionately explaining to a customer that pizza contains tomatoes, and tomatoes are vegetables if everyone agrees hard enough.

The customer looks bewildered.

Marco looks victorious.

Maggie nudges my shoulder. "Have you thought about it?"

I know exactly what she means. Unfortunately.

"Maybe." Her eyebrows rise, casting doubt on my claim, forcing me to add, "Fine. More than maybe."

"I knew it!"

"Please don't sound so pleased with yourself."

"But I am."

"That's the problem."

She laughs and links her arm through mine.

I hate that she's right.

Lately, I've been thinking about it constantly.