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“It stands.” Lane’s voice was warm, certain. “Friday night? Give you time to make the transfer official?”

“Friday night.”

We stood there for a long moment, his hand still on my face.

Then Remy’s voice came from the lobby: “Are you done talking? Because I’m really hungry!”

Lane laughed and stepped back. “We should go.”

“Yeah.”

At the door, he turned back. “Josephine?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For caring about Remy enough to do this right.”

“She’s special. You both are.”

His smile could have lit up the whole room. “Friday. Six o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

“It’s a date.”

“Yeah,” Lane said, his eyes warm. “It is.”

After they left, I pulled up Dr. Robert Caldwell’s contact information. He was a colleague I respected—kind, patient, excellent with children.

The phone rang twice.

“Dr. Caldwell.”

“Robert, it’s Jo Bennelli. I need to talk about a client transfer.”

“Of course. What’s going on?”

I took a breath. “I have an eight-year-old client who’s been making excellent progress. But I’ve developed a conflict of interest.”

There was a pause. “This wouldn’t happen to be Remy Daniels, would it?”

I blinked. “How did you⁠—”

“Cameron mentioned you might be calling. Something about her deputy father and inevitable romance.” Robert’s voice was amused. “Small towns, Jo.”

“I’m going to kill Cameron,” I muttered.

He laughed. “She cares about you. And from what she says, Lane Daniels is a good man.”

“He is. And Remy is wonderful. Which is why I need to do this properly.”

“I agree completely. Send me her file. I’ll make sure the transition is smooth.”

Relief flooded through me. “Thank you, Robert.”

After we hung up, I pulled Remy’s file and began preparing the transfer paperwork.

My phone buzzed. Of course, it was Cameron.

I heard you’re transferring Remy. FINALLY. Now you can date that man properly.