Molly kept her pace brisk, arms crossed tight against herself even though the evening air was warm enough to make the back of her neck damp. Her bag bumped against her hip with every step, her nerves wound so tight it felt like static was humming under her skin.
Scarlett was settled for the night—bill paid with Anna, the next two weeks prepaid, even an unnecessary but guilt-driven donation of snacks to the sitter’s pantry. For once, Molly had no childcare worries. Which only meant she had plenty of room for all the other ones.
This wasn’t a date.
It was just a conversation. On her break. In the cleanest polyester uniform she owned—which wasn’t saying much—and pretending she wasn’t already sweating through it. But still… she’d curled her hair.
She sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag.
