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Lola sprints up the porch steps, with Dylan and I trailing behind her. She swings open the front door, leaving it wide open as she races down the hall, shouting for her Gigi and Papa.
Before Dylan can follow her inside, I grab his arm. “Are you sure about this? What if your parents are upset that you invited me?”
He raises a brow. “Have you forgotten my mom’s multiple attempts at setting us up? Trust me, she’ll be over the moon when she sees you’re here.”
We’ve fallen into a new normal in the weeks following my art show. Our morning routine is the same, but our afternoons look much different than before. Waffles and I pick up Lola from school now, and we hang out in my art studio until Dylan gets home from work.
I was worried that Johanna might be disappointed since she usually watches Lola after school. However, Dylan assured me she was genuinely happy about the change. We haven’t told her we’re dating yet, but she must suspect it since Dylan spent the night with me in New York and because of the changes we’ve made to our schedules.
Most nights I have dinner at Dylan’s, then wait downstairs for him while he puts Lola to bed. With his demanding work schedule, I want to make sure they get quality daddy-daughter time whenever possible.
These last three weeks have been the best of my life. After Lola goes to bed, Dylan and I cuddle on the couch while he reviews financial reports, followed by mind-blowing sex. We’ve agreed to not have sleepovers, and it’s getting more difficult to say goodbye to him each night.
Dylan leans in to kiss along the edge of my jaw. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”
“I believe you.” I look up at him with an appreciative gaze.
Now that I’ve had a glimpse of what it would be like to be a real family, I can’t shake the feeling that this is where I belong.
Dylan tucks a piece of hair behind my ear as he gently cups my cheek. I lean into his touch, and he seals my mouth with a possessive kiss. Without thinking, I grip the collar of his jacket, tugging him closer, a moan escaping my lips as he slips his tongue inside my mouth.
“Lola, I told you not to leave the door op—”
Dylan and I freeze, spinning around to find Johanna standing in the doorway. Her eyes dart between us, a broad smile lighting up her face.
There’s no doubt in her mind that we’re dating now.
My cheeks turn red as I release my grip on Dylan. I’m mortified that Johanna caught me kissing her son. I expect her to make a dramatic response about what she just saw, but she ignores it entirely.
“Marlow, what a pleasant surprise,” she says, pulling me in for a bear hug. “Dylan didn’t tell me you were coming.” She gives him a disapproving look.
“I hope you don’t mind.” I nervously bite on my lower lip.
“Of course not.” She waves off my concern. “You’re always welcome. Why don’t we go inside? Dinner’s almost ready.”
I follow her into the foyer, taking in the inviting atmosphere I remember from the last time I was here last Christmas Eve. A living room is on the right, and on the left, a stairway leads to the second floor. Like Dylan’s house, whites and grays dominate the space. What sets it apart are the personal touches—photos of the Stafford siblings, a stack of quilted blankets, and various knickknacks.
“Are Cash and Harrison here yet?” Dylan asks.
“Harrison called earlier and said he has a meeting he can’t miss, so he won’t be able to join us tonight.” Johanna frowns. “Cash got here half an hour ago. He’s in the kitchen with your dad and Lola.”
She guides us down the hall to a farmhouse-style open-concept kitchen, featuring exposed ceiling beams, butcher-block countertops, and sage-green cabinets. A massive wooden dining table, with seating for ten, is on the opposite side of the room.
Dylan’s dad is at the kitchen island tossing a salad. He’s wearing tortoiseshell glasses, and with his short black hair and brown eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to Dylan.
“Honey, look who’s here,” Johanna says in a singsong voice.
Mike sets the tongs on the counter and comes over to greet us.
“Hey, son.” He smiles and gives Dylan a pat on the back. “Marlow, what a pleasant surprise. It’s good to see you again.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stafford.”
He chuckles. “Please, call me Mike.”
I hear giggling in the corner and turn around to find Cash and Lola at a craft table near the bay windows overlooking the backyard. As I step closer, I see they’re coloring pictures of unicorns. Lola’s tongue is poking out in concentration as she tries to stay within the lines.
Cash is next to her, hunched over in a chair that is far too small. It’s so sweet that he’s willing to play with Lola. His shaggy brown hair covers most of the scar spanning from his ear to his chin, and I wonder if that’s intentional. Dylan mentioned he was in some kind of accident growing up but hasn’t elaborated.
