Page 42 of In Every Chapter

“Does Myles get paternity leave?”

Juliet nodded. “He negotiated it in his CBA. It’s not a ton, but the team is very family orientated. It’s part of our brand, so they accommodate the family guys. It’s partly why Cal could switch down to the minors and keep playing while still raising Khia after Izzy passed.”

So many bits of information to keep straight. The Cal I knew was still twenty-four and single. Not thirty-one and a single dad.

“Now tell me how you are,” Juliet insisted, settling back against the hotel headboard.

I scoffed and absently strummed the guitar propped up in the corner. The dissonant twang cut through the room. “I’m beginning to hate the question.”

“Don’t be difficult. You know it’s because we love you.”

“Yeah.” And I did know it. “Let’s see. I left the gas burner on after I boiled the kettle for, oh, probably fifteen minutes. Luckily I didn’t kill us with gas poisoning. Then I put on a load of laundry. Turned one of Greyson’s white tees pink. Classic. And, of course, I turned on an empty dryer for an hour. All in one day.”

Juliet grimaced. “Short-term stuff is a killer, huh?”

I blew out a breath. “It’s been deemed in everyone’s best interest that I not be left alone. So I’ll be going to work with Greyson in a few minutes.” Which wasn’t too terrible since I hated being alone in the first place.

“Hey, when I get back, I can spend time with you, too.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“The stove and the dryer say otherwise.”

I growled. “I hate being treated like an invalid. I’m not a child.”

Juliet was quiet. “Is that really how you feel? Or is your history of ‘accepting help makes me uncomfortable’ getting in the way?”

Darn you, best friends, who knew me better than I knew myself.

“Both?” Way to be convincing, Paisley Grace.

Juliet hummed. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stop hovering if you agree to ask for help when you need it. And I mean when you actually need it, not at the last possible moment before you collapse because you’re stubborn beyond belief.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“We’re not talking about me.”

I groaned, flopping onto the padded window seat. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

We locked gazes over the screen for a minute, then burst out laughing.

“You’re a terrible patient,” Juliet said at last.

“And you’re an almost great negotiator.”

She cackled. “Don’t tell the guys. They’re all convinced I’m scarier than I am.”

Greyson poked his head into the library. “Pais, you about ready—oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone.”

I waved off the apology. We were on day five of acting like roommates, and it was a learning curve. “Just debriefing with Jules. You ready to go?”

“We’re flying in tonight,” Juliet cut in. “I’ll let you go. See you at the barbecue tomorrow!” And she hung up.

“Guess that’s that.” I slipped the phone in my skirt pocket. “Ready when you are.”

My satchel slung over his shoulder, Greyson snapped the leash on Rosie before ushering us out to the truck. The drive was quiet but comfortable. Low country music crooned in the background—I was almost certain it was a Hailey Bishop song—and Greyson hummed along, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.