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River smirked, and I responded with a smile. That gave me a tiny spark of hope that maybe we could…

You can, my beast said, trying to boost my confidence.

Getting a sleeping six-year-old off one lap and into someone’s arms was a two-person job, and we did it without talking. He transferred Wren to me, and my daughter mumbled. River’s hand was on her back during the handover, and he kept it there for a tad longer than he should have. Our eyes met as I whisked Wren up the stairs with River behind me.

Just as I had when I went down earlier, I stood on the squeaky step. A second squeak echoed behind me, matching my own.

Ivy and Poppy were tangled up in the quilt with one of Ivy’s feet by Poppy’s ear. River pulled the quilt back, and I laid Wren in the gap they’d left for her. They always did that when they slept together. They’d spent nine months huddled together in the womb, and Wren filled the space that was hers.

I almost didn’t want to turn around and face him. Wren had been the perfect distraction, which was almost her and her sisters’ default setting. Putting a finger to my lips, I tiptoed out and closed the door.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight. I’m not asking you to sign anything, but I needed you to know what was true.”

“Okay.”

He said good night, went to his room, and closed the door. I could have gone to the workshop and worked on that special project I’d started just after River arrived, but I wasn’t in the mood. Instead, I lay in bed counting the minutes until I’d see him again.

And in the morning, I was up at the crack of dawn, downing caffeine as if it were elixir. The girls might get up later than usual, as it was the weekend, or they’d be in the kitchen pestering me to make French toast.

“Morning.” River strode toward the coffee machine. The smudges under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept much either.

“Tell me the rules of the house. Not the human ones about bedtime stories and brushing teeth. The other ones that no one ever mentioned.”

That was a good sign. River hadn’t packed his bag and taken off, so he might’ve been planning on staying until the end of his contract.

“Firstly, the girls aren’t supposed to create flames inside the house.” I patted the stone walls. “The building wouldn’t be destroyed but the furniture would, and most importantly, they could burn themselves.” With their dragons hidden inside them for now, they couldn’t take their scales and protect the girls.

I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug. “Last night I was distracted.” I bit my bottom lip as Wren often did. “I’m teaching them to control their dragon so they don’t need the bracelets on 24/7, but⁠—”

“They’re six.”

He understood six-year-olds. He had little knowledge about dragons, but he was aware that young children got excited, panicked, and upset. He’d witnessed all of that firsthand.

“They’re allowed to warm things in the house as they showed you with the sheets and your coffee.”

“River, did Wren get a cookie last night?” Ivy was shouting from the top of the stairs. “That’s not fair.”

“Nope.”

Wren got downstairs first, followed by Poppy, and a fuming Ivy brought up the rear.

“Why do you think that?” River got plates, bowls, and spoons from the dishwasher.

“Because she said she came down here after Poppy and I were asleep. And Daddy always gives us a cookie when we do that.”

River rolled his eyes at me. Yes, I was guilty of not keeping to my own house rules.

“No. There are no late-night treats in this house after you’ve brushed your teeth.”

“Oh.” I had to peer into the fridge to avoid laughing at my daughters’ horrified expressions.

Poppy made a face at the fruit, cereal, and toast that appeared on the table. “Now that you know about our dragons, can we eat meat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

“Hold that thought.” River grabbed my arm and dragged me into the pantry.

He closed the door, and it was too much to hope that he was going to kiss me.

“What’s the deal? Does it harm their dragons if they regulate how much meat they eat? Are their beasts allergic to a balanced diet?”