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Her mouth purses as she twists the hanger in her hand. “I hope I didn’t overstep or make you uncomfortable.”
“The opposite actually. He’s lucky to have you looking after him.”
“He’s lucky to have you. I hope to see a lot more of you.”
“I do too,” I answer honestly.
As I turn on my heel and head back to Luke’s house, I’m surprised it’s so quiet inside. He’s straightened up the dining table. Everything in the home is set as it was the first night I came here—clean and barren. I hear the faint noise of him in the bedroom with Ainsley. I peek in the half-open door at Luke in the bed, Ainsley curled up into his arm. The lamp’s light casts them in a golden glow as he lies above the blankets while she’s underneath them.
They’re a sweet sight. He’s reading a story to her, and she’s looking at the pages with half-closed eyes.
I want to kiss her good night, yet I don’t want to disturb their moment. I’ve had Ainsley all to myself for too long. Learning to share her will be difficult, but I’ll make do. She’s half his after all.
I take a shower and change in the bathroom, happy to get comfortable after a long day on my feet. This time, instead of just Old Spice, I find feminine shampoo and body wash and a kid-friendly three-in-one bottle with a picture of SpongeBob on it. I make a smiley face on the mirror and get ready for bed.
When I exit, Luke is on the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and he’s watching television.
I walk farther into the room to inspect what he has on television.
“Bridgerton?” I ask, intrigued.
“Started watching it a few weeks ago. Some old ladies in the park got me hooked. There’s some intense sex in this show.”
“Not what you thought, huh?”
“So much better.”
He pats the spot on the couch beside him, and I bite my lip in trepidation.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Ainsley could wake up and come out here and—”
“See us watching TV together? I’ll change the channel if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“This isn’t one of those Netflix-and-chill moments, is it?”
He twists his face, as if the expression is foreign to him.
“It’s when you pretend to watch TV, but you’re really fooling around on the couch,” I explain.
“Oh. I’ve heard of it. We can mess around if you want, but I was just thinking we could spend the night cuddled in each other’s arms.”
“I thought Joe was the affectionate bastard in the house?” I balk.
“He learned it from his father. Now, come snuggle with me.”
I fall to the sofa and take a spot in Luke’s nook, the same spot our daughter was in a short time before. Luke takes the afghan off the top of the sofa and lays it over us. Once we’re settled, Joe leaps over and curls his body into my hip.
My hand lies over the wool of the blanket. “I like this. Handmade?”
He gives a soft smile. “My mom made it when she was expecting me. We each have one. Peyton’s is pink, and Lauren’s is peach.”
“Tell me about your mom. She sounds very loving.”
“Annie Incendio was the greatest mom in the world. My sisters said I was a mama’s boy. They were correct. I might have been a mischievous little boy and a hellcat of a teen, but I would drop anything when my mother called.”
He pulls me in closer and plays with a loose tendril of my hair.“You would have loved her. When I was a kid, she’d take us out on adventures. She’d fill the car with gas and drive as far in any one direction, wondering what town we’d come across. She was a country girl, but she loved the city. We’d go to Manhattan, Philadelphia, Boston, and Rochester, to name a few. From trying the different foods to visiting the zoos or museums, she wanted us to get out and experience the world even if it was only for a day.”
“I love that idea.”
