Riley’s POV
I pulled into my sister’s driveway a little after 7PM, the sun already dipping low and painting the neighborhood in soft oranges.
Melissa, my sister, had texted me earlier asking if I could swing by and check on her kids since she and Marco, her husband, were stuck at some business summit in Korea until tomorrow night. “Just make sure they’re not throwing a wild party,” she’d joked. As if Alan and Nellie would ever do something like that. They were good kids. Mostly.
I grabbed the grocery bag I’d brought, some fresh fruit, snacks, and a couple of frozen pizzas, and headed to the front door. At 34, I still looked pretty damn good if I said so myself. Tight jeans, a fitted blouse that showed just enough cleavage, and my dark hair loose around my shoulders. Melissa and I share
