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“I do, about the things that matter to me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to call Mr. Barclay⁠—”

“Oh it’s Mr. Barclay now,” she says, interrupting me with a very snide sneer that is starting to piss me off.

I don’t say anything else before calmly going up to my room. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction after she interrupted me.

I text Tucker and tell him I’ll keep her here until he can make it back, which should be about forty minutes at the very least.

Tucker:

I’m already on my way back.

Twenty minutes.

I sigh then go make sure the boys are still asleep and that the monitor I have in my pocket is still at full volume and working.

Everything’s as it should be, except Norma looks way too closely at me after Tucker greets her.

Her presence combined with my earlier resolve to get back to having fun with Tucker makes me paranoid. Maybe she really does read minds, because she keeps looking from him to me.

It’s irrational, I’m well aware, but the panic does what it’s supposed to, and I do the only thing I can in response.

I’m scared she’s going to take the boys away from Tucker because we’re fooling around and that will make him look bad, but I also know that there’s no way that’s acceptable.

The decision cements inside of me. The defense against that argument forms naturally, and now I can’t escape the fact that there really is nothing wrong with what we’re doing.

Tucker relaxes the longer Norma’s around.

When the boys’ voices come through the monitor, he’s the one who goes to chat with them while they’re groggy. I hear him ask Norma—who follows him upstairs—to wait a few minutes in the hallway.

I turn it off before I can hear anything else and share a look with Johnny. He looks as nervous as I feel.

“You did great,” I reassure him. “You’ve been the one to spend the most time with them, so your opinion is valid.” He looks relieved, so I’m happy I mentioned it. I don’t actually know if his opinion will be considered, but I hope it will.

He’s not only great about keeping the boys safe—and me by asociation—but he also obviously cares about them.

All of this is a good reminder, the boys come first, and whatever is going on with Tucker won’t change that—whether we continue or we stop.

So why would I stop?

When they come back down, Norma asks to speak to me alone, and I get through the interrogation about the boys’ schedule and habits. When I’m done, it’s the first time she looks even remotely happy.

“Exactly as Mr. Barclay said,” she murmurs.

Of course it’s the same, we don’t have any reason to lie.

I don’t say that, and I keep my mouth shut except to talk to the boys while she asks them to show her their favorite toys, and throughout dinner—which Tucker invited Norma to stay for as well.

She’s great with them, actually, and that helps too. She’s probably not a bad person. Maybe she has a chip on her shoulder about rich heirs and nannies—honestly, I can’t blame her for that, the stereotypes exist for a reason—but I know Tucker isn’t anything like what I imagined. He deserves to earn the trust necessary to take care of the boys.

When it’s all over and done she lets us know she’ll be back for another surprise visit where she hopes to spend more meaningful time—whatever that means—with the boys, and if everything goes to plan then the custody investigation should be closed.

When Tucker ushers the boys upstairs, I go outside to take a walk around the block because I damn well need it.

Today has been . . . a lot.

The moment my lips made contact with Tucker’s a week ago changed me.

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that. I literally think about every aspect of my job, my priorities, differently.