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“Poor guy.” Adam’s sympathetic voice brings me back to the table. “Cheated on and then traded mid-contract.”

“And traded to the team where his ex and her new boyfriend got new jobs after the breakup.”

“Don’t forget that Mike Ellison is one of Shane’s coaches. He’s contractually forced to listen to that dirtbag.”

My head swims as they volley this information back and forth. Resting my elbows on the nicked hardwood, I rub my temples.

“And the baby?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Delilah’s dramatic gasp borders on camp. “Please tell me you saw the baby.”

I nod and shove away my paper plate, my appetite vanishing.

“Then you’ve seen living, breathing proof that Shane has had a dumpster fire of a year too. Honestly”—Delilah reaches out to gather both of my hands in hers, her elbow knocking a whisk on the floor—“your sunshiney personality and upbeat attitude is just what he needs right now.”

“That and to keep putting up quality at-bats,” Adam adds, picking up the utensil. “Everyone wants the Waves in the series again this year.”

I release a nasally sigh. “I knew you two were big baseball fans, but how do you know all these personal details?”

I’d done a cursory internet search on Shane after getting home from the ER, but only found information about his career—nothing about his relationships.

“Waves subreddit. A few dedicated fans scour the dark web for information players try to keep hidden.” My best friend reaches for her phone and almost takes down a tower of plastic cups. “I’ll send you the link.”

“I don’t need the link.” I hold up a hand, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep breath. “I need…actually, I need a minute.”

Leaving the table, I round past the stairs to get to the living room. Normally, I’d be able to cut through the kitchen, but it’s nothing but a dusty husk.

Piper doesn’t even look up when I plop down beside her on the couch, just offers the pizza box to me. Since I’ve babysat her for all of Delilah and Adam’s date nights since Delilah and I became fast friends, she’s used to having me around. I’ve even been given the honorary title of Aunty Willow.

“No, thanks.”

She shrugs, picking up another slice. For as tiny as Piper is, she can sure put away some pizza. A third of the box is already gone.

I stare blankly at the screen, watching one of the best action scenes in animated history as Flynn Rider wields a frying pan to his advantage. Piper and I have watched this movie together no less than eleven times. It’s her current fixation. Delilah says before she fell in love with fairy tales, she’d had a healthy dinosaur fascination.

My shoulders finally slide away from my ears as I nestle further into the comfy sectional, the familiar scent of Piper’s bubble gum bodywash wafting over me.

“This is my favorite part,” Piper whispers a few minutes later when Rapunzel uses her magical hair to heal Flynn’s hand.

“Why?”

“Because Flynn doesn’t know he needs help. He thinks all he needs is money to be happy, but he’s wrong. You need people.” Piper gives me a gap-tooth smile, her shoulder resting against mine.

“You’re right,” I tell her, wrapping an arm around her small frame. “I’m glad I have you.”

Her head slips onto my shoulder, her blonde hair damp from her evening shower. “Me too.”

“Why didn’t I think of this?” Delilah whispers to Adam from the doorway. “I should have used the kid as motivation from the start.”

I toss a pillow at my meddling friend without looking up from the screen. Delilah chuckles before Adam pulls her back to the dining room.

“What was Mama screaming about?” Piper asks after a beat.

“I might be moving into a fancy-pants new condo. Like the kind I kept clean for other people.”

If I say yes to Shane’s paper-only marriage, I’d be living in the exact penthouse I used to clean, though Piper doesn’t need to know that. Come to think of it, there’s no reason that I can’t continue to clean for him. Though I did my best with the time I had before, if I lived there, I could scour the baseboards and take a toothbrush to the air vents. Really get that place sparkling. The idea eases the yawning pit in my stomach, if only slightly.

“Like a castle?”