Page 144 of Nine Week Nanny

I nod once, grateful for Warren's guidance on that front.

The judge leans forward, elbows on his desk. "Mr. Carrigan, you've been clear in prior proceedings that your residence in Florida is tied to a temporary professional project. Do you intend to continue living here if the adoption is finalized?"

My jaw tightens. This isn't a question I can finesse or redirect.

"No, Your Honor. My work will eventually require me to return to Denver. I've already spoken with Lennon about this."

The judge considers this, his expression giving nothing away. "If the adoption is granted, you will be free to relocate. What matters is whether the child is secure in your care."

His attention shifts to the bench behind me. "Lennon, do you understand that? That if you are adopted, you may live with Mr. Carrigan somewhere else?"

I resist the urge to turn around. My pulse thunders in my ears.

A small voice answers, clear despite its softness. "I want to stay with him."

The words hit me like a physical force. Something cracks open inside my chest, raw and vulnerable.

I sink back into my chair, turning to see Lennon while trying to maintain composure. My throat works against the emotion I refuse to show.

Not here. Not now.

The judge makes a notation, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. "The court acknowledges the minor child's statement." He strikes his gavel once. "This session is adjourned. All parties are thanked for their candor today."

Warren leans toward me as we gather our documents. "The paperwork will be substantial. Dana will schedule those home visits within the next few weeks."

I nod, but my focus has already shifted behind me, where Lennon still sits, small fingers wrapped around Maria's necklace like it's the only constant in his shifting world.

My knuckles arewhite around the steering wheel as Val's voice fills the SUV. "She cared enough to send the necklace back. That means something. Go find her, thank her. Ask her to coffee. What's the worst that can happen?"

I stare through the windshield at the modest brick apartment complex. The paint flakes around the stairwells like dying petals, and cars are cramped in the lot at odd angles. It's barely impressive enough to call basic. So far from the oceanfront luxury where I met her. Where I lost her.

"I don't even know what I'll say if she opens the door. Thank you? Sorry? Both?" My voice comes out tight, strained.

"Pope, for heaven's sake. You saved her address from the package, flew to Georgia to see her, rented a car, and now you're sitting out front like a teenager afraid to ask someone to prom. You crush people for a living. Don't be scared of a petite, curvy woman."

"I'll call you back. I'll let you know how it goes later." I hang up before she can respond, pocketing the phone.

Taking a deep breath, I push open the car door. The damp Georgia January afternoon hits me immediately.

With each step up the narrow stairs, I rehearse my opening.

Sloane, I just wanted to thank you in person...

Lennon hasn't let go of that necklace since it arrived...

I had no right to let you take the fall...

Nothing sounds right. I need to find a way to sincerely apologize for everything that has happened, for her life imploding because of me, for not keeping her abreast of everything so she wasn’t blindsided.

I knock, my heart hammering against my ribs, palms damp.

The door swings open, but it's not her. My stomach drops. A man in joggers with a TV remote in hand. For a split second, my gut twists. Is it her boyfriend? Already?

Of course she has moved on, and now her boyfriend is going to want to know why this asshole from her past is showing up unannounced. This was a terrible idea. Too late now. I’ve knocked. I’m here.

"Does Sloane Brennan live here?" I manage to keep my voice steady.

He shakes his head. "She used to. She moved a few weeks ago."