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“Sounds like a plan.”

Another yawn sneaks up on me and Ollie notices. “You should get some sleep,” he says with a small smile. “You’ve been driving for days, and nanny duty doesn’t start until I’m back at work. You’ve earned a break.”

“Thanks—you should probably do the same,” I say and unstrap Tilly, handing her over.

A tired huff escapes him. “Yeah, working on that. Good night, Peyton. And, um, thanks again for being here.”

Something softens in my chest at the honesty in his voice. It can’t be easy suddenly becoming responsible for a baby, so if I can make things a little easier while figuring out my own next steps, that’s enough for me right now.

“I’m glad I’m here.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, I wake up and don’t immediately feel dread filling every cell of my body. Sure, my life is still messy and I’m taking it one day at a time, but the new location makes it feel easier.

There’s so much I want to do and explore while staying in Brooklyn. I want to wander through museums for hours until my feet hurt. I want to visit art galleries and pretend that my own work deserves a spot beside the greats. I want to find a local art class and paint again without worrying about someone judging me for having a hobby. I want to spend time with Rose, get to know her friends better and build a life here that belongs only to me.

Maybe that’s the real reason New York feels so exciting. The city doesn’t get to see the old version of me. The one who kept quiet, stayed small and twisted herself into whatever shape made other people comfortable. I’ve been here before, sure, but this time is different.

Right here, right now, I can be someone else. Or maybe just more myself.

That thought alone is enough to get me out of bed. The apartment is quiet when I step into the hallway, which surprises me a little. Maybe Tilly actually slept better last night.

I make my way toward the kitchen and immediately pause when I see the mess waiting for me. It’s not terrible, but there’s definitely evidence of survival mode. Bottles on the counter. A burp cloth tossed to the side. A couple of dishes in the sink. A formula can open next to it.

I don’t even think twice about cleaning. It feels natural, being useful before the day begins. Besides, I’ve always been an early riser. Sleeping in has never been my thing. By the time the counters are wiped down and the dishes are done, it’s time for breakfast. Opening the fridge, I pull out eggs, butter, fruit and whatever else looks edible, then set my phone on the counter and put my headphones on.

Since my official nanny duties don’t start until Ollie goes back to work, I know I don’t have to do any of this. But I also don’t mind helping. There’s something calming about moving around the kitchen without overthinking every little thing. Soon I’m swaying to the music as I crack eggs into a bowl and sprinkle in spices.

By the time I start slicing fruit and singing along to Mr. Big’s “To Be With You,” I’m completely lost in the moment. It isn’t until I turn around with breakfast that I nearly jump out of my skin. Ollie is standing a few feet away with Tilly in his arms, both of them watching me. And I hadn’t heard a thing because of the music.

“Fuck—I mean fudge. You scared me!”

He chuckles, the deep sound filling the kitchen. “Good morning to you, too. How did you sleep?”

“Oh, like a baby,” I answer automatically, then glance at Tilly and grimace. “Actually, now that I think about it, that saying is wildly inaccurate.”

Ollie huffs out another laugh, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly over Tilly’s sock-covered foot. “Yeah, whoever came up with that definitely never met an actual baby. How’s your first morning in the Big Apple going?”

“I thought locals weren’t supposed to use the nickname,” I say and set down the plate.

“I’m a country boy, so I get to call New York City whatever I want.”

“Fair enough.” I peer toward the windows overlooking the street before looking back at him. “But honestly? I already love being here. The city feels different this time. I’ve visited Eli and Rose many times, but it wasn’t like this.”

“Different good or different scary?”

“Both. Back home, everything started feeling like a rerun after my separation. Same places, same conversations, same expectations. Here, anything could happen.”

Ollie watches me, like he’s trying to catch what I’m not saying out loud. “That actually sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Tilly lets out a happy little babble, pulling Ollie’s attention toward her. The shift in his expression happens instantly, his entire face softening. “She agrees,” he says.

“Of course she does,” I coo in a ridiculous baby voice.

Ollie sets Tilly down and opens the fridge, scanning the shelves before pulling out a bottled cold brew. “Want some?”

“No, thanks. I’m more of a tea drinker.”