Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance

Andre nodded, remembering how his little niece used to cling to her dad and call him "Uncle" in that soft, obedient voice. Back then, she'd snuggle up, greet him politely, and whenever he handed her something, she'd take it with both hands and say, "Thank you, Uncle," with perfect manners.

She was every parent's dream-polite, sweet, always saying and doing the right thing, never causing trouble.

Andre used to think, if only his nephew were half as easy as Anya, he'd have so much less to worry about. For a while, he even bought into the idea that daughters were naturally easier than sons-until his own little girl, Mia, came along and turned that theory upside down. Turns out, it really depends on the kid.

Now, as he watched Mia chatting with Molly near the backyard fence, he overheard them talking about Henry's and his father's check-up results.

Unfortunately, Anya heard that Henry had been sick and needed a blood test. Her heart ached. She scooped Henry up and looked him over, "Where did they poke you, sweetheart? Tell your big sister."

Henry stuck out his little arm, lips trembling, trying to win every ounce of sympathy. "Right here, sissy. It hurts!"

Anya's heart nearly broke for him, but Mia, standing nearby, burst his bubble with a laugh, “Nice try, kiddo. They took blood from your left arm, not the right."

Henry stared down, comparing both arms. Was there really a difference?

cheek, but Wayne, with his usual serious face, didn't react at all. He just toddled away and grabbed his

on hugs and kisses, wriggling

dinner at the Cedillo's, he decided to have dinner out with friends and

Anya single-handedly managed three little troublemakers. Both men exchanged a glance, their respect for her quietly

someone as sweet—and maybe a little foolish-as Anya would fall for his nephew, who

and Anya to a hotel instead of staying at the Cedillo place. No matter how many times

Mr. Calder called, "Anya, come on, let's

do—Chad had said he'd come pick her up,

Molly's phone buzzed. She checked the message, then quietly made her way over to Mia,

at it—Leo had sent a message that said, "Help, save me, I owe you one

Cedillo cleared her throat and spoke up, "Why don't we let

not the same as family. At night there's always something-blankets slipping off, kids waking up for milk, someone needing

mischievous little kitten and couldn't help but

in, "Absolutely! We've done this before-three kids is