Page 78 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

The way he says it, controlled, as if nothing happened, nearly kills me on the spot.

“Goodnight,” I say, and then I turn and walk away before what little dignity I have left bursts into flames.

I make it down the hallway, into my room, and shut the door with all the calm grace of a woman absolutely not having a full internal collapse.

Then I lean against it and stare at the ceiling.

“Holy hell,” I whisper.

Captain, who apparently followed me at some point, sits down beside the bed and looks up at me like he’s concerned.

“Yes,” I tell him. “That's the correct reaction.”

I shove both hands into my hair and groan.

Because what the hell was that?

What the actual hell?

I cross the room in two agitated steps, then back again.

Almost kiss.

Almost.

And somehow that feels more dangerous than the plane ever did, because there was no plausible deniability in that kitchen. We’re not strangers; this isn’t a one-off recklessness.

Just me and Ethan and all the reasons we absolutely shouldn't be doing this, layered under every look until the whole thing nearly tipped over.

I sit on the edge of the bed and put my face in my hands.

He trusts me, gave me a card for the household like it was nothing, thanked me for taking care of Oliver, and talked about the gala.

And I…

I looked at him like I forgot every smart thing I’ve ever known.

Captain nudges my knee with his nose.

I sigh and scratch behind his ears automatically. “Your owner is a problem.”

Captain wags once.

“Don’t do that,” I mutter. “You’re supposed to support me.”

He climbs halfway onto the bed like a giant emotional support marshmallow and rests his head in my lap.

I stare down at him, then let out a weak laugh. There's no point pretending in front of the dog.

“Well,” I say softly, “this is going really, really badly.”

Captain blinks at me.

And somewhere down the hall, beyond my door, Ethan is still in the kitchen.

Which means tomorrow I have to face him.

At breakfast.