I push the door open to find her in the kitchen, her little hands covered in what looks like flour, her curls wild and sticking out in every direction.
“Daddy,” she squeals when she sees me, holding up her messy hands like they’re a prize.
I glance at the counter, where an impressive mess of flour, sugar, and what might be eggshells is spread out. “What are you doing, kiddo?”
“Making cookies,” she announces proudly.
“You mean making a mess,” I say, scooping her up despite the flour and setting her on the counter. “Where’s Eleonor?”
“Ellie bye-bye,” she says.
Ellie is the girl who’s been helping me with Maddie for the past six months. She’s young, fresh out of college, and Maddie adores her. But as I glance around the house, I realize it’s too quiet.
“Maddie, where is Ellie?” I repeat because what the fuck does bye, bye means.
“She gone,” Maddie says matter-of-factly, reaching for a handful of flour.
“Gone where?” I glare, scared. How long did she leave my daughter alone . . . making cookies? For fuck’s sake.
Maddie shrugs, her curls bouncing. “She say bye-bye.”
Frowning, I set her back on the floor and grab my phone. Sure enough, there’s a text from Ellie, sent an hour ago.
Hey, Hopper, I’m so sorry for the short notice, but something came up. Maddie is safe, but obviously come back to the house. See you tomorrow.
I let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over my face. How dare she just leave without making sure I texted her back—or that I was back in the house with Maddie. That’s so fucking irresponsible. I’m seething, but then Maddie tugs at my leg, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Daddy, cookies?”
I crouch down, brushing a bit of flour off her cheek. “This isn’t the time for cookies, Mads. We’ll . . . let me figure out what we’re going to do.”
But the truth is, I have no idea what I’m going to do. By the time I’ve cleaned up the kitchen and gotten Maddie down for her nap, I’m no closer to a solution.
I sit at the kitchen table, staring at my phone, scrolling through my contacts and coming up blank. Ellie was the only one I trusted with Maddie, and I don’t have the time or energy to start vetting someone new right now.
My gaze drifts to the clock on the wall, then to the stack of mail I haven’t had a chance to go through.
And then, like a lightbulb flickering on, I think of Nysa. It’s a bad idea. A terrible idea, but she’s good with Maddie, and Maddie adores her. And right now, I don’t have a lot of options.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull up the number for the bookstore and hit call.
The phone rings twice before a familiar voice answers.
“Cozy Corner Books, this is Nysa.”
I sigh with relief. It’s not Mrs. Harper. I don’t have the bandwidth to go through her usual interrogation, more so when I need to speak with her granddaughter.
“Hey, it’s Hopper,” I say, resting my hip on the counter, as I watch Maddie talking to Lala.
There’s a pause. “Hopper. Hi. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say quickly, though I’m not sure if that’s entirely true. “Listen, I, uh, have a bit of a situation.”
“Okay . . .” Her tone is cautious, but there’s a hint of curiosity there too.
“The girl who helps me with Maddie quit,” I explain. “And I, uh, need someone to fill in. Just for a little while, until I can find someone else.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“You want me to help?”
