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Tiff steps out into the hall, and I follow her, moving out of earshot of Rox in the kitchen.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, brow furrowed, hands fussing with the hem of her sweatshirt.
“Everything’s great,” I tell her. “I just…I was wondering how you and Stefan connected?”
The vee between her brows deepens.
“I mean,” I ask, “did he get a referral for you from a company?”
Her teeth press into her bottom lip and worry crosses her face, and…I realize how that sounds.
Like I’m going to report her.
Or get her fired.
Or…well, shit.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, words coming in rapid succession. “I don’t mean to insinuate anything. At all. It’s just…you’re awesome with Roxie, and I travel a lot, as you know.”
She smiles.
“It’s about time for me to get my own Tiffany for when it’s my custody time,” I tell her. “So, I thought I’d ask you first.”
The tension leaves her frame and she tilts her head to the side, warm brown eyes holding mine, studying me for a long moment. “You know,” she finally says, “I’d be happy to help out on your weeks too.”
“Really?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I love Roxie, and I already know her routine. It’d be easy enough.”
Relief blooms in my belly. Still?—
“I wasn’t trying to pressure you into it,” I tell her. “And I’ll pay you separately from Stefan of course, if you really do have the time, and—” I chuckle—“the wherewithal to keep up with her during my weeks too.”
Tiff grins. “She keeps me busy, that’s for sure, but I don’t mind.”
Keeps her busy.
More like runs her ragged.
I hold back my wince. “Seriously, though, I totally understand if your schedule doesn’t allow?—”
She settles her hand onto my arm and exhales deeply. Then murmurs, “The truth is that money’s a little tight right now, and tuition is coming due. And”—she shrugs again—“I really do love Rox, so I think if I picked up those other times, we’d both be doing each other a favor.”
She sounds genuine enough that I’m starting to think that too. “As long as you’re sure.”
She nods.
I fix her in place with a glare. “And you’ll let me know if it becomes too much with school?”
“I can do that.” She drops her arm, pulls out her cell. “Let’s exchange contacts and we can coordinate, yeah?”
I take her number down, give her mine then squeeze her arm. “Thanks, Tiff, I really owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me any?—”
“Mom!”
She smiles, tilts her head toward the kitchen. “Speaking of keeping us busy.” Her smile grows. “I’ll just finish cleaning up and head out. I have a test to study for.”
