The alarm jolts me awake the next morning.
Since my daughter hit school age, I've been dropping her off at preschool, which means early mornings are my new normal. After washing up, I poke my head into her room. The nanny's already got her dressed, ready to brush her teeth.
Lila spots me and waves, all smiles. "Morning, Mommy!"
My heart melts. I lean against the doorframe, grinning back. "Morning, Lila."
Once she's done brushing, I walk her out to head to preschool. We're almost there when my phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Your car's blocking mine. Can you move it?"
The voice is familiar, too familiar. I keep my eyes on the road, then it hits me. "Matthew? How'd you get my number?"
His voice clicks in my head, and I'm thrown for a loop. Then I remember—the number's on my car for parking is
