I navigate through the evening traffic of Boston, feeling more and more impatient with each red light but I don’t let it impact my speed. Arrive alive, as they always say. I’ll get there safe and sound and when I do, I’ll get to hug and kiss the sweetest girl in the whole world.

The bakery comes into view, along with the bar on its left. Muffin Top and Ryan’s House, the best darn joints in town, but I’m more than a little bias. My brother, Vincent, owns the bakery. His wife, Evey, owns the bar with her brother, Tommy. And my daughter has spent about a third of her life running between them with her cousin, Zachary.

Bias schmias. My family is awesome.

I pull into the alleyway between the buildings and park my car in the back next to Tommy’s beat-up, old Chevy.

I step into Muffin Top and inhale a deep breath, filling my nose with enough warm sugar to make me forget every moment of my day until now. It’s the end of the evening rush, leaving only a few folks left to finish off their coffee and pastries.

“Mommy!”

She sees me before I see her. Charlotte sits at the table closest to the register with Zachary, the surface overloaded with paper and crayons. She wears a pink stethoscope around her neck and I make a mental note to ask Vincent about it later.

The employee, Monica, stands behind the register with one eye on them and another open for potential customers. She looks up at me through her red bangs and waves hello. “Yo, Boss!” she calls out behind her. “Anna’s here!”

I give a thumbs up. “Thanks, Mon.”

Charlotte slides off her chair and rushes toward me. I meet her halfway, pulling her up to hold her as soon as she leaps for me.

“Hey, honey.” I kiss her cheeks all over. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?” I stop at the table and rub Zachary’s thick, brown-haired head. “Hey, Zach-attack!” I say. “How’s it going?”

He barely looks up from his drawing. Five-years-old and he’s already too cool to say hi to his aunt, but I won’t hold it against him. He’s too cute to scold.

I nudge his chin as Vincent comes out from the back, easily standing a full foot taller than Monica beside him. His black shirt looks about ready to rip in half thanks to the muscles begging for freedom beneath it. Not exactly what you’d expect to see of a baker but the Silva family has always been known to be a little bit out of the ordinary.

He crosses his arms. “You’re late,” he says to me.

“I was fighting crime,” I say. I pinch the scope around Charlotte’s neck. “Why does my daughter have a stethoscope?”

He gestures behind him and turns around to head into the back, expecting me to follow.

“Uh-oh...” I murmur. I turn to blow a raspberry on Charlotte’s cheek and she giggles as I set her back down in her chair. “Stay here for Mommy. I’ll be right back.”

Monica gives me a reassuring I’ll-watch-the-kids nod as I pass by her into the back.

Again, my nose twitches with amazing smells. Every time I walk in here, I feel a bit nostalgic. Our mother ran a bakery just like this one when we were kids. It surprised me when my brother came home from war and told me he was going to open one, but I’m constantly amazed at how he’s made it work.

I follow the sound of his bounding feet up to the second floor where he and Evey live. It’s just big enough for the two of them, along with little Zachary, but I can already tell that their once private getaway for two has become a little cramped.

Vincent stands over a table in the corner with papers stacked along every edge, looking not-unlike our children’s table downstairs but the content of these are clearly not as fun as a superhero coloring book.

I tilt my head to read a document labeled Utility Agreement. “How’s Muffin Top Two coming along?” I ask him.

He groans. “The hunt for a manager continues.”

“Have you asked Monica? She’s worked here forever.”

“She has, and I have,” he answers, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But she turned it down. Says she likes it here and running the second location is, as she puts it, like, totally not her thing, man.”

I chuckle. “Well, you’ll find somebody. This place has a nice reputation. There are probably hundreds of bakers out there looking for a gig like this.”

“Hundreds with experience owning and operating a successful business, can follow all of my recipes, and keep to my schedule?”

“Well, maybe not at first, but that’s what training is for, little brother.”

He exhales. “I don’t have time to train somebody. I don’t...” He stops, cutting off his quick tongue.

I pause. “Vin, what’s up?”

He raps his knuckles twice on the table. “Evey’s pregnant again.”

I gasp. “She is?!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s great!”

He stares straight ahead. “... Yeah.”

My smile fades into a grimace. “That’s not great?”

“No, it’s great,” he says. “It’s just... interesting timing.”

I pout one side of my lip. “Not planned, huh?”

“Not quite, no.” He sighs. “I mean, yeah. We planned on having more kids but I wanted to wait and see how this second location worked out first before trying.”

“Well, saddle-up, Daddy,” I joke. “Number two’s a-coming. How far along is she?”

“Sixteen weeks.”

“Sixteen?! And she didn’t know until now?”

“Nope.”

“What about the morning sickness?”

“She didn’t get it this time!”

“Wow...” I flash back to all the horrible days I spent attached to a toilet during my pregnancy. “What a bitch.”

He laughs. “Anyway, that’s where the scope came from. We took Zach with us to the appointment yesterday and he walked out with that thing. He’s already bored with it, so if Charlotte wants it...”

I nod. “Should keep her entertained for a few days.” His eyes flash with excited fear and I smile. “Congrats, little brother.”

“Thanks.”

“Are Mommy and baby healthy?”

“Very,” he answers.

“Did you have an ultrasound?”

He flips up a stack of papers and pulls out the printed photo stashed on the bottom.

I take it from him, my lips curling in delight at the black and gray shape of my new niece. Or nephew. I’m feeling niece, though.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” I say.

“What?” he asks.

“We’re never gonna live down this nose, are we?”

He laughs and snatches it out of my hand. “Anything new going on with you?”

“Oh, yeah. You know me. Party every night,” I quip. “Got a date later this evening, as a matter of fact. I’m gonna get all pretty, hang up my ankle holster, and have a good time.”

He smirks. “New bath bomb come in?”

I point a finger and wink. “It’s gonna be off-the-hook!”

“How’s work?”

“Eh, you know Boston,” I say, slurring. “Another day, another body.”

“Anyone I know?” he asks.

“Not unless you know Canon McGregor.”

He nods slowly. “I’ve heard the name.”

“The Shanks were the big dogs of Boston for a long time,” I say. “The McGregors and the Quinns were happy to linger in the wings until they went down. When they finally did, the bickering over who got the old Shank territory began but it hasn’t gotten violent until now.”

Vincent shows some concern in his face. “Be careful,” he says.

“I will. Sally says hi, by the way.”

His face lights up. “I knew she’d miss me eventually.”

I roll my eyes and stand up. “Gonna take the kid home. Is Evey at the bar?”

“Yeah — but don’t tell her I told you that stuff before,” he says quickly. “She wanted to tell you at dinner tomorrow night.”

I scoff in annoyance. “Vin...”

He shrugs.

* * *

Before Charlotte, I never really had an off-switch.

I was Anna Silva. The top homicide detective in Boston. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, I had my head in the game. I was only as good as my next closed case. I dedicated every moment to keeping the innocent people of Boston safe.

Then, I had her.

My head is still in the game. Don’t get me wrong. Someday, I’ll make Captain. I still wake up with the drive to protect and serve. That dream isn’t over but another urge grew in me, one that I couldn’t ignore.

I suck at relationships. I never had the time to get them right, so… I found a donor. Tall, dark, handsome. A Harvard Law graduate from Chicago. Super smart, impeccably healthy, and he loved dogs. Donor #7134-C. On paper, he was the perfect father to start a family with. Nine months later, my life changed.

Now, I have no issue flicking that off-switch in the evenings, even if it means just watching her eat a ham and cheese sandwich for an hour.

She’s my world.

Charlotte sits in her chair beside me at the kitchen table with that darn stethoscope in her ears. She holds a corner of her sandwich in one hand and the scope pressed against her neck in the other, listening intently to all the little inner noises her body makes as she swallows. Exploration. Science. I had a curiosity for it at her age, too.

“What’s that?” she says, mostly to herself.

“What’s what?” I ask.

She drops her sandwich and taps her hand against the table. Thump thump. Thump thump.

I smile. “That’s your heart, honey.” I lean over and take the scope, placing against my chest. “See? Mine does it, too.”

She listens closely, her eyes growing wide. “It’s loud.”

“I’m bigger than you, it’s supposed to be louder,” I say. “It’s pumping blood throughout my body. That’s hard work.”

“Blood?”

“It’s the red stuff in your body that...” I hesitate, searching for an answer that doesn’t get too gory. “Okay, you know how Mommy has to stop at the gas station every so often to fill up the car? Or else it won’t run anymore?” She nods. “Well, blood is like that, except it’s inside your body. It’s the stuff that keeps you running.”

Her curious eyes flick up and down. “Do I have to fill up, too?”

“No. Your body creates more of it on its own.” I lay my hand on my heart and thump twice. “Your heart is like a battery — you know those little silver things that power your toys?” She nods. “Well, as long as your heart keeps beating and your blood keeps pumping, you keep running. We help our hearts stay strong with a good diet and lots of exercise.”

Charlotte lays the scope against her own heart again and listens for a few seconds. “It’s faster...” she says, looking worried.

“That’s normal. Your heart rate can go up or down depending on a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like... if you run from one end of the house to the other. Or when you’re excited or scared... or in love.”

She giggles. “Are you in love, Mommy?”

“Yes.” I poke her nose. “With you. Now, put the scope down and finish your dinner for me, will ya?”

She obeys, sliding the thing off and laying it on the table. I pick it up and place one earpiece in my ear as I lay the scope on my chest.

Thump thump.