Wynter’s POV
After Connor stormed out of his daughter’s room, I followed him, worried I’d said something wrong and as I stood outside of his bedroom, trying to muster the courage to knock, I’d heard his cell ring and then the steel vaulted man talking to someone.
Not wanting to eavesdrop, I’d hurried back to the living room, snatching up the baby monitor and heading to the kitchen to start preparing dinner.
As I was peeling potatoes, Connor had appeared, informing my gruffly that he would be starting work the next day and that I would be taking care of Grace on my own.
So here I am, at eight in the morning, with a six month old baby who is looking up at me as she sucks on the sock she’s just pulled off her foot.
My cell chimes, and I pick it up from the floor beside me, rolling my eye
