“You really don’t know?” Gabe asks.
It’s a glitzy black-tie event. Why would I know this? “No.”
“It’s tonight.”
My eyes land on the only patch of white space on my otherwise double-booked calendar. The exact spot where some urgent activity should be.
Doesn’t Snooki have one friend with a glitter-bombed birthday party tonight? Or wait. Doesn’t Connor have a robotics competition?
No, that was last week.
Dammit. Why can’t one of them be in football?
The room spins, and I reach for the only silver bullet I’ve got. “Can’t. No babysitter.”
“I thought you had someone.”
“I did. Had to let her go.” Sad, but true.
“That’s three in one month,” he scoffs.
“Four.”
He starts ticking them off. “The dancing TikToker, the wannabe life coach, and this one. Who am I missing?”
“The one I found naked in my bed.”
“Oh, yeah.” He tsks. “And you let her go.”
“She was covered in honey. Like, a gallon of it. I had to replace the sheets, the pillows, and the mattress. What the fuck? I don’t even own honey.”
He cracks up again. “Right. The wackadoodle. But wasn’t this last one a sweet little grandma? I thought you liked her.”
“I did like her.” I pause. “Right up until she offered my kids twenty bucks to the first one who found my credit card.”
“She didn’t?”
“She did. Lucky for me, Connor’s a shark. He negotiated twenty-five from me and sold her out.” I sniff back a fake tear. “Proud papa moment.”
“Rookie mistake. He could’ve gotten thirty.”
“So, as much as I’d like to help, Gabe, considering everyone I trust will be at tonight’s event, I’m out of options. Otherwise, I’d totally do it.”
“You would.”
“Absolutely.”
“Good news,” Gabe counters smoothly. “Zac figured you’d use your kids as human shields, so Mrs. D.’s already expecting them.”
Dammit.
Mrs. D.’s probably closing the restaurant so everyone else can go. I can’t argue with her as a babysitter, and she knows it. She’s the living embodiment of Mary Poppins. Practically perfect in every damn way.
And if I deny my kids the joy of seeing her, they’ll smother me in my sleep. They adore her.
Gabe’s voice dips lower, smug amusement sliding like silk through the line. “On the bright side, I’ll owe you. And that’s worth something, right?”
Instantly, my mind conjures an image of Gabe, all six foot four of him, strutting around the office in sky-high stilettos for an entire workday.
