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I know I shouldn't, but I can't help but overthink it.

"I need to pee," James announces.

"We're almost there, James," Klaus says, turning toward his nephew. "Can you wait fifteen minutes?"

"I need to pee now," James says.

"Sir, there's a Starbucks up front," the chauffeur says.

Klaus's eyes flash with annoyance, but he grunts. We stop in front of the coffee shop. I'm about to unbuckle my seat belt, but Klaus turns in my direction.

"I got it," he says. "Stay in the car."

He doesn't even look at me. I chew on my bottom lip as he takes James inside the Starbucks.

Something is definitely off. He wasn't able to take his eyes off me all evening. But now, he can't even bring himself to look at me.

I shouldn't be jumping to conclusions, but I can't help but wonder if it was something I said or did.

"Mom used to always get me a cake pop whenever she got coffee," Rosalie says, distracting me from my thought spiral.

I suck in a breath. It's the first time Rosalie has opened up about her mom with me.

"Venti brown sugar oat milk shaken double espresso with light ice," she says.

I chuckle. "Is that what she ordered?"

Rosalie nods. "Sometimes, she even let me have a sip. I love coffee. But only Mom's coffee. Dad's coffee was gross. He had itblack."

She makes a face, like she can still taste the bitterness of the coffee in her mouth.

"I didn't like my dad," she says. "He used to hit her. That's why she's hiding now."

My mouth drops open, but I recover quickly.

I don't even know what to say to that. This wasn't included in the nanny training manual.

My eyes clash with the driver's. He's pretending to look at his phone, but I know he heard every word Rosalie just said.

"Rosalie, what do you mean she's hiding now?" I ask.

"You should ask Uncle Klaus about it," Rosalie replies. "He knows everything."

I glance toward the coffee shop again. I can make out Klaus's silhouette through the glass facade. He stands out in the crowd like a god among mortals.

As if he can feel me watching him, he turns to look at me. I can't make out his face perfectly, but I can tell he's frowning.

"I had a good time today, Miss Turner," Rosalie says. "Skating makes me really happy."

"I'm glad you had fun, kiddo," I say, smiling at her.

Her words still swirl around in my head. She spoke about her mom in the present tense. I wonder what she meant by it. It's possible that it's a coping mechanism. She could be keeping her mom alive in her head because she's not ready to let go of her yet.

My heart squeezes with empathy.

It's probably not the best thing to spoil her with sweets, but I want to do something that makes her happy.

"Do you want a cake pop?" I ask her.