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He leads us down the hall to a bedroom, and when he pushes the door open, I almost stop walking.

There’s a queen-size bed dressed in a fluffy white down comforter that looks like a cloud. Soft lighting from a bedside lamp. And in the corner—a Pack ‘n Play. Already set up. Sheets and everything.

The man comes complete with a Pack ‘n Play.

“Thought this bedroom would be best for you. When I babysit my sister’s littlest one, I put her down for a nap in here. Everything’s clean, though. My housekeeper was just here and laundered all the bedding.”

It’s more than I could have hoped for. More than I have for Ella at my place, where she’s been sleeping in her car seat because I couldn’t afford a crib or a bassinet. I’ve been putting her car seat on the floor next to my bed and reaching down to pat her when she cries.

“Thank you. This is perfect,” I murmur, and the tears are threatening again, pressing against the backs of my eyes. I swallow hard and focus on laying Ella down in the Pack ‘n Play, adjusting her blanket, making sure the pacifier is within reach.

Alexei is standing so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. I can feel his eyes on me as I bend over and carefully settle Ella into her bed for the night.

“If you need anything, my door’s at the end of the hall. I’ll keep it open. Just holler, okay?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

He takes one last look at Ella before turning to face me. “Good night, Ryleigh.”

“Good night.”

I watch him walk away. The way his muscles bunch and move underneath his fitted long-sleeved T-shirt. The way he pauses at the door for half a second, like he wants to say something else, then thinks better of it and keeps going.

Everything about the past couple of hours has been surreal. Too good to be true. I can’t process it without my heart clenching and my belly tingling with nerves.

Once I turn out the light and climb into bed, I nearly moan. The sheets are soft—some kind of high-thread-count sateen that feels like silk against my bare legs. The pillows are actual feather pillows, not the flat, lumpy things I sleep on at home. I sink into it, and every tired muscle in my body releases at once.

I worked a double shift today. I’ve barely slept in four days. And now I’m lying in a bed that costs more than my monthly rent, in the guest room of a professional football player’s penthouse, with a baby sleeping three feet away from me in an actual baby bed.

Lying here in the dark with the soft sounds of Ella breathing, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing. No idea what I’ll do tomorrow. I have a lot to worry about—paying my rent and my heating bill, taking care of Ella while trying to track down Andi. I need to figure out childcare and feeding schedules and why she cries every night between eight and nine for no apparent reason.

But right now, in this moment, I feel something I haven’t felt in two years.

Safe.

I feel safe. And the realization is so startling that it brings one last wave of tears I have to blink away.

I roll onto my side and look toward the Pack ‘n Play, where Ella’s small chest rises and falls in the dim light from the window. She’s warm. She’s fed. She’s sleeping in a real bed for the first time since she came into my life.

And there’s a man at the end of the hall who left his door open. Just in case we need him.

I don’t want to need him. I’ve worked so hard not to need anyone.

But tonight, just for tonight, I’m going to let myself be grateful that he’s there.

That there are still nice people in this messed up world.

Chapter Three

Alexei

I wake to the smell of bacon.

Actual bacon, popping and sizzling in a pan. There’s the clink of a dish, the scrape of a spatula, and underneath it all, someone humming—soft, off-key, completely unself-conscious.

I lie there for a few seconds, staring at my ceiling, trying to make it compute.

Then it floods back. The street corner. The store. The broken thermostat and the freezing apartment. A woman with the blue eyes and a baby that isn’t hers, both of them sleeping in my guest room.