"Thank you for letting him spend today with me" Logan says, and I hear the sincerity behind the politeness.
As the door closes behind them, I feel the absence of Tyler's energy like a physical thing. Logan's arm slides around my waist, anchoring me.
"You okay?" he asks quietly.
I nod, leaning into him. "Bonus mommy, huh?"
His smile finds the corners of his eyes. "Kid's pretty smart for three."
The party continues around us, but for a moment, we're in our own world—still new, still figuring things out, finding our way.
The apartment seems unnaturally quiet after the door closes behind Nate and Elena, the last to leave. I kick off my shoes and pad across the living room, gathering empty wine glasses from the coffee table. The evidence of our Thanksgiving is everywhere—scattered napkins across the sofa, dirty plates stacked beside the sink, the lingering scent of turkey. Logan locks the door, then turns to me with a tired but content smile. "That," he says, "was a success."
"Definitely." I balance three wine glasses between my fingers. "Even with Tyler announcing my new title to the whole team."
Logan's laugh is soft as he moves to help me, collecting napkins crumpled across his usually pristine furniture. "Bonus mommy. I swear I didn't coach him on that."
"I believe you." And I do. Tyler's declaration was straight from the heart. "Though I'm guessing Jessica might have some thoughts."
"Probably." Logan shrugs, his shoulders rolling beneath his sweater. "But she was civil. That's progress."
We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes, moving around each other with the ease of dancers who've memorized the steps. I scrape plates while Logan loads the dishwasher. Our fingers brush as he takes a serving spoon from my hand, and that simple touch sends warmth up my arm.
"Your place survived its first toddler invasion remarkably well," I say, gesturing to the rubber corner protectors on the coffee table and the baby gate still blocking the stairs to his loft. "No blood, no broken glass, no emergency room visits."
"A Thanksgiving miracle." Logan grins, wiping down the counter. "Though I think we can attribute that to your expert child-proofing more than luck. Who knew kindergarten teachers had such valuable life skills?"
"And who knew hockey players could install baby gates without swearing?" I tease, remembering his concentrated face as he'd wrestled with the latch mechanism yesterday.
"I never said I didn't swear. I just did it very, very quietly." He flicks water at me from his fingertips, and I duck, laughing.
The dishwasher hums to life. I wipe my hands on a towel, surveying the kitchen. "Almost back to normal."
"Normal," Logan repeats, leaning against the counter. His eyes find mine across the island. "What even is normal anymore? I’m not even sure I know. Now I’m a dad and I'm hosting Thanksgiving with him and—" He gestures to the baby gate, the corner protectors, the box of children's books near the couch. "All of this."
"Having regrets?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
He crosses to me in three long strides, his hands finding my waist. "The opposite. I'm... grateful. For Tyler. For the chance to be his dad." His hands tighten slightly. "For you."
"Hmm."
"You made all of this so great." His voice drops lower. "You saw me completely fall apart when I found out about Tyler, and you stayed. You’ve shown me how to do this. How not to lose my mind. You made my son feel welcome in a situation that could have been so freaking awkward."
I shrug, uncomfortable with his praise but warmed by it all the same. "I’m just doing what comes naturally."
"And that's what makes you special." His thumb traces circles on my hip. "I watch how you are with him—so natural, so patient. Like today when he wouldn't try the green beans, and you made it into a game instead of a battle. Brilliant."
"Teacher tricks," I deflect.
"It's more than that." He tilts my chin up, making me meet his eyes. "It's who you are. I watched you with him, and I just kept thinking—" He stops, swallows.
"What?"
"That I'm feeling a way I didn’t know I could." His voice is rough around the edges. "Something is happening here I didn't even know I wanted."
We've been dating for months now, sleeping together for most of that time, but this feels like crossing a new threshold—one that's both thrilling and terrifying.
His hands slide from my waist to my back, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body seeps through my sweater, making my skin prickle with awareness. His mouth finds mine, the kiss starting gentle but quickly deepening as my lips part beneath his.
