Later that morning, CC woke to sun shining through the guest room window. She dressed quickly in yesterday's skirt and jacket and stepped into the hall, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Her shower was calling her name, her hair was a wreck, and she really didn't want to see Niles. What had seemed comforting in the dark of night felt incredibly awkward in daylight, and frankly she couldn't believe she had almost done what she had almost done.

Avoidance wasn't going to be an option, though. As she came down the stairs, Niles was in the living room, sitting with Grace on the sofa and watching cartoons with her and the boy, who slumped in a chair, listlessly playing his video game. Knowing she couldn't very well slip out the door without saying a word, she called out a falsely cheerful "Hello, hello" as she collected her coat from the closet.

"Good morning, again," Niles greeted her, settling Grace on the sofa by herself so he could approach Miss Babcock.

CC didn't quite make eye contact. "I'm just going to head home now," she told him.

"No breakfast? But I made a special trip to the farm store for that barley you like so much," he said, his tone light.

He was standing too close to her. She took a step backwards, pulling her coat around her, grasping it with one hand to hold it together.

"Guess you'll have to eat it yourself," she responded, kicking herself for not being able to think of a better response. It was just that Niles's cologne was proving distracting. What had he done, bathed in it?

At that moment Grace slid down from the couch and toddled over to CC. "Babcock go?" She asked, her lower lip quivering.

Damn it. Ill at ease, CC reached down and patted her on the head. "Yes, it's time for me to go home."

"Me go?" She looked up at CC, a hopeful expression on her face.

CC laughed. "Not on your life, kiddo," she said, not unkindly, as she pulled the door open.

"Me go!" The little girl exclaimed, and ran to CC, clinging to her leg.

CC looked at Niles, who crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows.

Leaning over, CC stretched her arms out and Grace allowed her to pick her up. "I'll be back to see you on Monday," she said, and handed the girl over to Niles.

Grace burst into tears and hid her face against Niles's shoulder.

Guilt washed over her and CC frowned, unaccustomed to the feeling. "What am I supposed to do?" She asked Niles.

"Just go, Babcock," he said tiredly, and held the door for her with one hand while he supported the child's weight with his other.

"But I—I can't just stay here forever," she defended herself.

He relented a bit. "I know. She'll calm down in a few moments," he said, though she sure wasn't showing any signs of impending calm.

"What the bloody hell is all that noise, Niles?" Maxwell called out from the top of the stairs, clutching his temples.

Niles closed his eyes, just for a moment. "Miss Grace is a bit upset, sir. I was about to take her into the kitchen for a snack."

"See that you do," he said, and if one could sound imperious in the throes of a miserable hangover, Maxwell did.

Niles rolled his eyes at CC and turned on his heel, heading towards the kitchen with the crying baby.

CC narrowed her eyes, at the point of launching an assault against Maxwell's attitude. Then she thought perhaps it would be more effective to wait until he was in better condition. Without acknowledging him, she stepped outside.


Still feeling conflicted about abandoning the little girl who had cried after her, CC walked into her penthouse half an hour later. She couldn't remember once in her life when anyone had cried for her. More than conflicted, she was angry at herself for letting a small child's tears affect her to the point that she was considering packing a few things and going to the Sheffields' to stay.

It wasn't a good idea, for multiple reasons. The primary one was Niles, of course—she expected no good could come of being under the same roof with him, especially not after last night.

Sara had nagged her for years about him, and CC's resistance had become a thing of habit. The butler? In the beginning, she thought surely Sara hadn't been serious. But as her friend continued to bring it up every few months, CC became more frustrated than amused. Sara's family would never have accepted her taking up with a servant; why did Sara think CC's would be any different? Sara hadn't hesitated to point out that this was certainly the first time CC had ever considered the wishes of her family when choosing a lover, and CC had had to acknowledge the truth of that.

But really, what kind of relationship could be founded on mutual animosity and absolutely nothing else in common? Well, almost nothing else, she amended, thinking of what she had found in his chest of drawers. One with damn fine sex, she thought immediately, and hated the part of herself that thought so. As her mind wandered, she took a quick shower and tried not to consider what it would feel like to have Niles's hands following the paths of the water droplets down her body.

Proximity to Niles wasn't the only reason CC knew it would be a challenge to stay at the mansion. She didn't like the guilt she experienced when she left Grace in tears; it wasn't an emotion she was used to feeling, and it wasn't one she wanted to become acquainted with, either. She wasn't even too keen on the tenderness Grace had evoked in her when she patted her face before they had fallen asleep. She didn't have children, didn't want the mess or the responsibility.

But she had promised Sara, hadn't she? And CC Babcock was many things, but a woman who lied to her dearest friend on her deathbed was not one of them. The thought of Sara made her eyes burn, and she shut them tightly.

And Maxwell had better look out. If she moved into the house, he was going to have to start pulling his weight, or at the very least, he was going to have to back the hell off with his criticisms. She chose not to examine the fact that Maxwell primarily criticized Niles, nor did she want to think too much about why that bothered her. She could, and would, disparage the butler all she wanted, but lately, she felt weirdly angry when Maxwell did it.

By the time she had toweled herself dry, she was already contemplating what she would need for an extended stay away from her penthouse.

Reaching for the telephone beside her bed, she dialed the number of the movers who had transported her things when she purchased her current apartment. She sure as hell wasn't going to be able to fit all she needed into anything she wanted to lug over there by herself.