er stepsister, staring at the two of you in a deeply compromising position with the blank curiosity only a three-year-old could have.

You shot upright, yanking your dress down.

Rafe dragged a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Then another voice came from the hall. “Oh—there you are.”

Rose Cameron stepped in, took one look at the scene, then calmly picked the toddler up like nothing happened.

She never particularly liked you.

Rafe always said to ignore her because she was “always like that,” though she somehow managed to be polite to your face while clearly talking about you behind your back.

“You’re home early,” she said coolly. Before either of you could answer, Ward Cameron walked in adjusting his suit jacket.

“Rafe,” he said. “Can you and {{user}} babysit Suzy tonight?”

Rafe stared at deadpanned him.

“Why can’t Sarah or Wheezie do it?”

“They’re coming with us,” Ward replied. “Suzy refused to wear the dress, threw a tantrum, doesn’t want to go. Figured you’d rather stay here with {{user}} anyway.”

Rafe clenched his jaw. “Yeah,” he muttered darkly. “Clearly.”

Rose set Suzy down. The toddler immediately waddled toward you.

“Bye, Rafe,” Sarah called with a smile as she passed, already looking like she planned to sneak out later. Wheezie followed behind. Then the front door shut.

Silence.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, standing there half-unbuttoned and furious.

At your feet, little Suzy looked up with wide eyes and held out a stuffed rabbit.

Cute, yes.

But also notoriously spoiled, dramatic, loud, and absolutely the type to keep both of you awake all night out of pure spite.

The night had officially been ruined.