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“Happy to be back,” Charles said.

“Papa missed you at game night,” Alba told him.

“You tell Francisco I’ll be there at the next one,” Charles said.

“I’ll let him know!” She laughed. “Well, I’ll leave you to your book,” Alba said, giving his arm a pat. She and Lucy walked back to the counter, where Lucy made her a cappuccino in a mug decorated with Winnie-the-Pooh characters.

While Alba sipped her coffee, they chatted. Esme got a little fussy being left in the stroller, so Lucy walked around the counter and took her out.

“Hello, my little darling,” Lucy said, cuddling her close. Esme was a fat baby with a head full of dark curls, half of which were gathered into two ponytails. She was pleased to be held, her little fist holding on tight to the fabric of Lucy’s shirt.

“My angel,” Lucy said, bouncing Esme, who shrieked with glee.

“You can pop her back in the stroller,” Alba said a few moments later, after she’d finished her coffee. “I’m just going to browse for a bit. I need something new to read while she feeds.”

“I’ll hold her, you go on,” Lucy said, fitting Esme onto her hip.

“Are you sure?” Alba asked.

“Please, I need this.” Lucy hugged Esme closer, and the baby girl touched Lucy’s face, trying to pinch her cheek in her chubby little hand.

“Okay, but if she gets fussy or you get tired, tell me,” Alba said, already sneaking away, clearly relieved.

Lucy waved Alba off, going around the counter to sit on the chair. She put Esme in her lap and booped her little nose, which made Esme laugh. Lucy’s heart swelled. Nothing could ruin her mood.

Until Grayson walked over, arching a brow.

“Whose random child is that?” he asked from across the counter. Lucy stood and set Esme on the counter, helping her stand on her chunky and wobbly legs.

“She’s not a random child!” Lucy said, offended. “She’s Alba’s.”

Grayson blinked. “Who?” Lucy pointed out Alba browsing. “So you’re … babysitting a customer’s child? Does that not seem highly unprofessional to you?”

Lucy was smiling at Esme, but Grayson’s words made her twitch with anger. She turned Esme around to face Grayson so that Esme could no longer see Lucy’s face, then she frowned at Grayson.

Ignoring him, she began bouncing Esme up and down in the air, making the baby laugh. Then she put Esme back on her hip, spinning her around. Esme was squealing with glee, and she rubbed off on Lucy, who laughed along with her. Grayson looked on, blue eyes alarmed.

“Will you stop that?” Grayson asked, voice on edge. “She’s going to throw up.”

“No she won’t—will you, sweet girl?” Lucy twirled Esme again, and Esme squealed in response.

“Yes, she will,” Grayson said. He held his hands out for her. “Give her here.”

Lucy gasped, clutching Esme close. “No! My baby!”

“She looks like she’s going to be—”

Grayson was cut off by the sudden gag of Esme vomiting profusely. With a yelp, Lucy defensively held a palm up to redirect the stream of spit-up … all over Grayson.

The three of them froze in shock as his sweater was covered in Esme’s last feeding.

Slowly, Grayson looked down at his ruined pullover. Silence hung in the air until Esme burped, satisfied.

And Lucy couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing.

“You. Did not. Just. Do that,” he seethed, hardly able to manage the words. He looked at her, his face twitching with rage. There were red splotches on his neck and cheeks, and his jaw was clenched so hard she saw the precise outlines of the muscles in his cheeks.

“Good Esme!” Lucy said through peals of laughter, smiling at the baby. Esme giggled in return. “Good girl!”