“I found her!” Mo squealed as I walked in the door after work.

In the two days since she’d announced her departure, I’d never seen her so determined, so driven, so…organized. I swallowed hard. Post-talk, I’d come up with a brilliant plan. At least I thought it was brilliant. I ran it by Max and Bodhi and neither of them seemed to think differently. “I’ll come home really late at night,” I announced as I sucked down a beer. “And then, Mo will be asleep. If she can’t talk to me about it, she can’t leave. Am I right?” I held up my bottle, waiting for them to clink theirs against mine, but instead, they exchanged looks. Crap. Even they knew I was an idiot.

I sighed and pasted on a smile. “So, God is a woman after all, huh?” I patted her on the head like I was indulging Thea, and then made my way to my bedroom.

“Shut up and sit down, Will,” Mo grumbled.

“I’m just gonna get changed, take a shower…” My voice trailed off as I met her angry glare.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and though she’d been seated on the couch staring at the television when I’d arrived; now she was standing in the middle of the room tapping her foot. “Now,” she urged, in what can only be described as a mommy voice.

I hesitated and glanced up the stairs. This might be the one time I was actually hoping my daughter would hear me come in and rush to see me. I needed a distraction, any distraction so I could make my clean getaway. “But Thea…”

“Is sound asleep. I should know, I tucked her in. Again. While you were hiding at the bar.” She jerked her head angrily toward the couch. “Sit down. We’re going to talk whether you like it or not.”

“After my shower. Promise.” Even as I spoke the words, I had my fingers crossed by my side.

Her brow arched. “I know you, William Treadway. You probably have your fingers crossed right now. No worries.” Mo shrugged angrily. “I’ll just follow you up the stairs and talk to you while you’re in the shower.” She took a few steps until she was behind me, ready to follow.

My shoulders slumped. My head hung. “Fine. Let’s talk.” While she stepped aside, I trudged to my spot on the couch and sank down. I leaned my elbows on my thighs and laced my fingers as I stared at the area rug. Megyn had picked it out and though I’d thought the shag would annoy me, I’d actually grown to love them. Swallowing hard, I waited for Mo to speak.

She sat beside me, her frame seeming even slighter when she was close. And though she had similar features to Megyn, they were as different as night and day. “It’s going to be okay. I found someone I think will be perfect.”

“I doubt it,” I muttered.

“Do you have no faith in me whatsoever?” She huffed. “You haven’t even let me tell you about her.”

“So spill it. Tell me about the glorious grifter you think I should hire to replace you. Where’d you find her? Under an overpass? Asleep on a park bench? Did you even do a background check?” I growled. She might force someone new on me, but that didn’t mean I had to like her. “And I get final pass. After all, I’m the one who’s paying her.”

“Take all the passes you want, you ungrateful ass, but remember when it’s all said and done, I’m leaving in two weeks.” She flung a piece of paper at me and stomped up the stairs.

I watched the paper flutter to the ground. Since I’d been watching Mo storm off for two years, this was actually far more interesting. With a sense of foreboding, I picked it up and read it. Beatrice Browne. With an ‘e.’ There was a local number. I frowned. I think I recognized the number. Standing, I slowly made my way upstairs to talk to Mo. I lightly knocked on the door before entering.

“What?” she asked, her face a blotchy combination of white hot rage and soul-crushing sorrow.

“So, what’s this number?” I pointed to the paper.

Mo sat up on her bed and frowned. “Coco to Go, the café…”

“Right.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “So, she really is homeless.” My brow arched in challenge. “Did you get information for a background check besides her name? What kind of name is that anyway?”

Mo rolled her eyes and sighed. “The government did that for us. She’s here on a fiancé visa. She’s British.”

For some reason, I felt relieved. “Well, that’s good.”

With a laugh, Mo shook her head. “Not for her. She planned to marry Stan, he’s a fisherman.”

I frowned at the use of past tense while trying to place him. “Sounds familiar. Shaggy dark hair. Barely speaks.”

“That’s the guy.” She reclined on the bed again. “They met when he was over there for a bachelor party. He lured her over here with promises of marriage. It’s a ninety-day visa and her time is nearly up.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “So, how is this going to help me?”

“Hire her. It helps both of you.”

I started to open my mouth, but was quickly silenced by her glare.

“If she’s working for you as a nanny, she suddenly has a job and can change it to a work visa. You both win.” Mo shrugged like this all made perfect sense.

“Why doesn’t she just go home if they aren’t going to marry?” I leaned hard against the door frame as I tried to reason everything out.

“Simple. She was a college student, did the occasional babysitting to get through school, met Stan and spent every last dime she had on the one-way airplane ticket and the visa. Did you know those things cost like…two grand after all the fees?” She shook her head sadly. “You need her. She needs you.”

I swallowed hard. “I feel bad for her, but I don’t know if pity is a good reason to employ her.”

“Well, you can feel better qualified to make that decision after you meet her tomorrow. She’s coming for dinner. Be home by six, or sleep with one eye open until I leave.” She cracked her knuckles threateningly.

“Okay,” I murmured weakly before retreating to my bedroom. Little did she know, I didn’t feel threatened. Since Megyn died, I’d barely slept anyway.