Page 124 of Reeves

Then I realize it isn't only Benjy's high, delighted giggle. It's tangling with a deeper rumble I haven't heard in years. My steps falter.

I move down the hallway, pulled toward the living room. I pause at the threshold, my hand gripping the doorframe.

Benjy lies sprawled across Reeves's legs, his small body shaking with laughter as Reeves gently tickles Benjy's side. The blanket I'd left last night is tucked around them both.

They don't notice me right away.

"Again! Do it again!" Benjy's voice bubbles with excitement.

"You're killing me, kid." Reeves's voice holds no edge, just warmth.

Benjy shifts and finally spots me. "Mommy! I found Reeves on the couch!"

A small smile passes between us. Recognition and memory, and a forbidden slip-up we can't indulge in.

"This little rascal jumped on me while I was sleeping," Reeves says, his tone easy and natural, like this is our normal morningroutine. Like he belongs here. "He nearly gave me a heart attack."

Benjy beams with pride. "I was super quiet until the last second. Like a ninja."

My son's body language tells me everything. There's no hesitation or awkwardness. He has complete comfort with this man he barely knows, the man who contributed half of the DNA that makes him who he is.

"Morning," I finally manage, the word coming out too controlled.

Reeves holds my gaze. I see it all in a flash: last night, the tangled limbs, the whispered words.

I break first, turning away. "I'll start breakfast. You’d better like chocolate chip pancakes, Reeves. That's what we always have on Sunday morning."

In the kitchen, I grip the edge of the counter. My routine will anchor me. That's what I keep telling myself. I put coffee grounds into the filter, water into the reservoir, and pull my mug from the cabinet.

As soon as I close the cabinet door, I open it again to get a second mug, remembering he likes his coffee with a splash of creamer and no sugar.

Even the routine pulls him in. The coffee machine gurgles to life.

"Need help?"

I jump, turning my head to find Reeves in the doorway, watching me. Benjy isn't with him. I turn back to the coffee maker, willing it to finish the pot, heat rising up my neck.

"God, don't sneak up on me like that," I say without looking at him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Was hoping you could put me to work since Benjy abandoned me to color."

Reeves steps deeper into the kitchen. He fills the spacebehind me. I keep my back to him, focusing on the ever-important job of watching coffee percolate.

"I told Benjy I'd help with breakfast," he says, voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the living room.

I nod, not trusting my voice. The coffee machine hums steadily, predictable and safe. Unlike the man behind me.

I feel him before I see him move. The slight shift in air pressure, the warmth radiating from his body. Then his hand rests on my waist as he pulls me back against him, his breath hot against my neck.

"I didn't like waking up without you," he murmurs, lips brushing the sensitive spot below my ear.

My body betrays me instantly. Goosebumps break along my arms, my breath catching as heat burrows low in my belly. My body remembers him. That’s the problem.

I allow myself half a second. Just long enough to feel his heartbeat against my back, before I have to do what I know I should.

"Stop." I push away, turning to face him. "Benjy is right there."

The words come out sharper than necessary, a knife's edge of fear beneath them. But they exploded out because I didn't want to accept the reality that he can't do that.