"Happy New Year," I whisper into her hair.
"It is now," she murmurs back, already half-asleep.
I lie awake long after her breathing evens out, watching shadows play across the ceiling, feeling the warmth of her against me. I love you. Three words I've said to exactly three people in my adult life—my mother, my brother, and now Reese.
I love you. I'm terrified but I'm certain.
In his room down the hall, Tyler sleeps surrounded by dinosaurs, unaware that tonight, everything changed. Or maybe nothing changed at all—maybe this is just the moment we finally acknowledged what's been true for months.
Either way, there's no going back now. I wouldn't want to.
Chapter 19
Logan
Morning sunlight streams through the kitchen windows, catching dust beams as I flip pancakes. From the living room comes the rhythmic clacking of train tracks being assembled, Reese's patient voice guiding Tyler through some complex engineering problem. "If we connect these pieces here, your train can go all the way around the coffee table," she's saying. I slide another pancake onto a plate, feeling stupidly, ridiculously happy despite feeling fuzzy-headed after last night.
"Daddy! Come see!" Tyler calls. "We made a ginormous track!"
"One sec, buddy. Let me finish these last two pancakes."
I glance over at them—Tyler on his belly on the rug, pushing a wooden train, Reese cross-legged beside him, hair pulled back in a pony tail, wearing one of my old Blades sweatshirts and some leggings. Last night replays in my head: I love you. I love you too. The memory sends warmth spreading through my chest, and I nearly burn the last pancake staring at her.
My phone vibrates on the counter. Jessica's name flashes on the screen, and my stomach tightens. It's earlier than she usually calls, especially on New Year's Day.
"Hey, Jess," I answer, keeping my voice neutral, aware of Reese glancing up at the name.
"I've been trying to reach you." Jessica's voice is tight, controlled in that way I've come to recognize as barely contained anger. "I see you were busy."
I turn down the stove burner. "Sorry, I had my phone on silent after we got home. Is everything okay?"
"No, Logan, everything is not okay." Her words are clipped. "The team posted photos from the party. They're all over Instagram."
My hand freezes on the spatula. "Okay...?"
"Tyler, in Reese's arms. Looking like you're one big happy family. He's kissing her cheek like she's his mother." Each word is a sharp staccato. "You didn't think to run that by me first? To ask if I'm comfortable with my son being used for your girlfriend's social media debut?"
I move farther into the kitchen, lowering my voice. "No one's using Tyler for anything. They were just taking family photos of everyone at the party."
"Family photos," she repeats, the words dripping with disdain. "That's exactly my point. She's not his family. I'm his mother."
"No one's disputing that, Jess."
"Really? Because Tyler keeps asking me when he gets to see his 'bonus mommy' again. He's confused, Logan."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting for patience. "We've talked about this. The 'bonus mommy' thing is just his way of understanding Reese's role. It's not replacing you."
"It feels like replacement to me," Jessica snaps. "She's trying to step into my place. First the Christmas photos you sent me, now this. She's everywhere in my son's life, making memories I should be making with him."
"That's not fair. She's been nothing but respectful of your place in his life."
"Respectful?" Jessica's laugh is bitter. "Is that what you call it when my son is talking about her nonstop? When he's showing me the train tracks 'Reese taught me to build' and the books 'Reese reads in different voices'?"
I glance at Reese, who's pretending not to listen while helping Tyler, but her shoulders are tense. Tyler remains oblivious, making train noises as he follows the track.
"He's a three-year-old who loves both of you," I say, trying to keep my voice even. "That's a good thing, Jess."
"No, it's not." Her voice rises. "She's trying to replace me."
