Little Maya had decided it was the perfect time for a meltdown because her graham crackers broke in half. Tommy was screaming because he wanted the blue cup, not the green one. And sweet baby Olivia had been crying for twenty minutes straight, her tiny face red and blotchy, and nothing you did seemed to soothe her. And of course, baby Theo, the only calm child, was determined to use his newfound ability to crawl to escape from the play area.

You bounced Olivia on your hip, patting her back rhythmically, while trying to reach for a pacifier with your free hand. Maya's sobs were reaching a fever pitch, and Tommy had started throwing blocks across the room in protest of his cup situation.

"Okay, okay, okay," you muttered to yourself, your voice strained. "We're fine. Everything's fine. We're all fine."

You were not fine.

Two of your employees had called in sick that morning, both with the same stomach bug that seemed to be going around. You'd scrambled, called everyone on your backup list, but it was too short notice. Nobody could come in. And so you were alone. Just you and five kids under the age of four.

The Honeycomb Daycare was usually a place of joy and laughter, all soft pastels and cheerful murals of bees and flowers. Right now, it felt more like a war zone.

You finally managed to get the pacifier into Olivia's mouth, and she quieted for all of three seconds before spitting it out and resuming her wailing. Your eyes burned with unshed tears of frustration. You didn't have enough hands to help everyone at once. 

You needed help. You needed someone. Anyone.

Your phone was on the counter across the room, and you made a split-second decision. You set Olivia down in the playpen—she screamed louder, but she was safe—and practically lunged for the phone.

Your fingers shook as you scrolled to Carmy's name and pressed call.

He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, honey. What's up?"

His voice was warm, and just hearing it made your throat tighten with emotion. Behind him, you could hear the clatter of the kitchen, pots and pans, the hiss of a stove, someone shouting an order.

"Hi Carmy, you busy right now?"

Your voice betrayed you and wobbled and broke with each word. Of course Carmy picked up on it. "Just a little. What's wrong? Everything alright?"

"Uh-yeah," you started, "I—I know you're busy and prepping for service tomorrow but I just need a little help for a bit. I'm alone here—both my staff called in sick and I have like five kids, and—" A sob escaped you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "I'm so overwhelmed. I can't do this by myself. I can't—"

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice immediately shifted, all the easy warmth replaced by sharp concern. "Breathe, honey. It's gonna be fine. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. I'm coming." There was a rustling sound, like he was already moving. "I'm on my way. Just give me fifteen minutes, okay? Can you hold on for fifteen minutes?"

"I don't want to pull you away from work," you said, even as more tears spilled down your cheeks. "I know you're busy. I know you have service tomorrow and—"

"Fuck service." His voice was firm, brooking no argument. "You need me. I'm coming. Just hold on. I'll be there."

The line went dead, and you stared at your phone for a moment, your heart pounding. Then you took a deep breath, wiped your eyes, and turned back to the chaos.

Fifteen minutes. You could do fifteen minutes.

━━━━━━━

It was actually seventeen minutes later when the door to the daycare burst open, and Carmy strode in like a man on a mission.

He was in his coat, his hair disheveled, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. You were on the floor in the middle of the play area, surrounded by crying children, looking like you'd been through a war.

He crossed the room in three quick strides and dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands cupping your face.

"Hey. I'm here." His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks. "I'm here, honey, no need to cry. You're okay, you're doing great."

You let out a shuddering breath, leaning into his touch. "I'm so sorry. I know you're busy. I just—"

"Don't apologize." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You needed me. I’m here. End of story."

Behind him, you heard another voice, and your eyes widened as Richie appeared in the doorway, looking around the colorful daycare with an expression of utter bewilderment.

"Holy shit," he said, taking in the chaos. "This is... this is a lot of kids, huh?"

"Richie?" You blinked, confused, then turned to Carmy. "You brought Richie?"

"He was in the kitchen when I got your call," Carmy explained, already reaching for a crying toddler who had toddled over and was tugging on his pants leg. "I told him what was happening, and he insisted on coming."

Richie shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "What? I'm great with kids. I'm basically a giant baby myself."

Despite everything, you laughed—a weak, watery sound. "Thanks."

Richie interrupted, already crouching down to talk to little Maya, who had stopped crying to stare at the strange man in a suit. "Hey there, little one. What's your name? Maya? That's a cool name. I'm Richie. You like dinosaurs?"

Maya sniffled, then pointed at the toy T-Rex in the corner. Richie grinned.

"Good choice. T-Rex is the best one. You know why? Because he's got tiny arms, just like you." Maya giggled, her tears finally stopping.

Carmy looked over at you, his expression soft despite the chaos. "You okay?"

You nodded, your heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt. "I am now."

The next two hours were a blur of activity, but somehow, with Carmy and Richie there, the chaos became manageable.

Richie, had taken over the play area, entertaining the older toddlers with an improvised puppet show using two stuffed animals and an increasingly elaborate storyline involving a bee and a bear who were best friends.

"And then the bear said, 'Why do you always have to buzz around so much? Can't you just relax for once?' And the bee said—" Richie made the bee buzz loudly, and the kids erupted in giggles. "He said, 'I can't relax! I have honey to make! It's a full-time job, bro!'"

You watched, dumbfounded. "Is he... is he actually good at this? God, I forget he has a daughter sometimes."

"Yeah," Carmy admitted, moving closer to you, "A daughter and a niece will do that to you."

You smiled at him, then felt the antsy wiggles of Theo approaching your legs.

Brushing the growing hair of baby Theo away, he crawled up to the two of you, climbing across both yours and Carmy's legs. He babbled excitedly, drool bubbling at his mouth when Carmy reached out to scoop him up.

Content in his arms, Theo relaxes against Carmy's chest, while he rocks him up and down. "Hey little bud, ya remember me?"

Your lips curve up. "I think he does."

"Yeah?" Carmy asks.

"Yeah, your pretty hard to forget, Carm."

His smile softened into something more tender.

"You're doing a great job, honey" he said quietly after a few minutes of rocking Theo. "Running this place. But I don't want you working yourself up and getting too overwhelmed, okay? That shit isn't good for no one."

Your eyes stung again, but this time with happy tears. "I don't always feel like I'm doing a great job."

"Doesn't matter how you feel." He pressed a kiss to your temple. "It's what you do. And you do it beautifully."

You leaned into him, careful not to jostle Theo, who was now fast asleep against Carmy's chest.

"Thank you for coming," you whispered. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't."

"You would've figured it out," he said, his voice sure. "You're the strongest person I know. But you don't always have to figure it out alone. That's what I'm here for."

You looked up at him, at his tired eyes and soft smile, and you felt your heart crack open with love.

"I love you," you said.