But she’s so damn happy.
“Is everyone hungry?” I ask.
“Yes!” Elody squeals. “Look, Kia! Daddy made rice with sauce!”
The younger woman smiles. “It smells delicious.”
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” I admit gruffly.
“You’re a good cooker,” Elody says proudly.
“Good cook,” I correct.
She giggles.
For a few minutes, everything feels almost normal. Forks clink as Elody chatters. Kia listens like every word matters. I can’t stop watching them together, marveling at just how quickly they’ve bonded.
When my phone vibrates on the counter again, I ignore it.
“Elody,” Kia says, “what do you think about making pancakes in the morning? The smiley-face ones?”
Elody’s eyes light up as she swings toward me. “Can we, Daddy?”
The tension I didn’t realize I was holding begins to ease, replaced by something softer and far more dangerous.
“Sure. I love pancakes.”
Elody cheers, already bouncing in place, talking a mile a minute about chocolate chips and whipped cream and whether smiley faces can have freckles.
Kia’s gaze lingers on mine for a beat longer than necessary. It would be impossible not to notice the gratitude shining in her eyes. But threaded through it is an emotion that’s quieter and far heavier.
I don’t let myself name it, but I already know what it means. I’m in so fucking deep, I’m not sure there’s any getting out.
And the truth is… I don’t think I want to.
25
Kia
The moment my eyelids flutter open, I take in my surroundings before realizing the familiar nausea that usually sends me sprinting for the bathroom is absent. Sunlight spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting gold streaks across the hardwood.
I haven’t woken up feeling this good since I discovered I was pregnant.
The thought is both comforting and unsettling at the same time.
Maybe I should surprise Laiken and Elody with a plate of smiley face pancakes that are ready and waiting for them. My belly rumbles at the idea, which feels like a small miracle all on its own.
After rolling from the bed, I find a pair of shorts and pull them on before padding out of the room in bare feet. I’m still wearing the tank top I slept in, and my hair is loose around my shoulders.
It hasn’t been a full week since I started this job and moved in, and I’m already comfortable here. The realization circles through my head as I turn it over carefully, trying to understand what it means. Comfort itself isn’t unfamiliar to me, but this kind of ease happening so quickly is.
For a split second, I pretend that waking up in Laiken’s penthouse before wandering into the kitchen is nothing out of the ordinary.
My steps falter when voices from the living room catch my attention.
Laiken’s there, but he’s not alone.
Awareness skitters down my spine.
