The table goes quiet. I feel everyone’s eyes on me.
“No, just for the weekend,” I answer carefully.
Ryan frowns. “But I like you. You should stay longer. We can talk about monsters, and you can read me bedtime stories. I bet you’re better than Dad with the voices.”
“Ryan,” Ronan cuts in, his voice gentle but firm. “Remember what we talked about? Never force people.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you go get your new books to show Rayne?" Maggie suggests, smoothly changing the subject. “The ones we bought yesterday?”
Ryan brightens immediately. “Okay! Don’t move!” He slides off his chair and races from the room.
The moment he’s gone, Maggie reaches across the table and takes my hand, squeezing it gently. Her eyes are bright with emotion.
“I have to tell you,” she says, voice thick, "Ryan doesn’t do this. He only ever talks this way with us and his teacher. He never takes to strangers like this.” She squeezes my hand again. “You’re special, dear.”
I blink rapidly, completely caught off guard by her words and the sudden lump in my throat. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing to say,” Thomas adds quietly. “Boy knows good people when he sees ‘em.”
I look at Ronan, who’s watching me with an intensity that steals my breath. There’s something possessive in his gaze, but also something vulnerable.
The realization hits me like a thunderbolt: I fit here. With this little boy’s easy chatter, Maggie’s warmth, Thomas’s quiet acceptance, and Ronan’s smoldering presence. I fit. Like I’ve found a place I never knew I was looking for.
And that terrifies me because I don’t belong here. Not really. In less than two days, I’ll be gone, back to my real life with its mounting debts and constant worry. This warm kitchen, this family, this feeling of belonging—it’s all borrowed time.
But as Ryan races back in with books clutched to his chest, his little body immediately pressing against mine as he opens the first page, I can’t help but wish it could be real.
5
RONAN
Iwatch from the doorway as Rayne kneels beside Ryan’s bed, her voice soft as she finishes the story about a dinosaur who couldn’t find his way home. My son’s eyelids are heavy, fighting sleep to hear one more word from her. He’s been glued to her side all day—following her around the house, showing her every toy, every book, asking endless questions.
Each time I watched them—my eyes never left her, if I’m being honest—my chest constricted. This wasn’t how I planned to spend the the first twenty-four hours with her, but I’m not complaining.
“Good night, Rayne,” he says softly, eyes finally closing.
“Goodnight, Ryan.” She brushes his hair back from his forehead—a gesture so natural it makes an unnamed, unfamiliar feeling rise to the surface.
I step forward. “Time for sleep, buddy.”
Ryan’s eyes flutter open one last time. “Is Rayne gonna be here tomorrow when I wake up?”
“Yes,” I answer before she can.
“Good.” He smiles, already drifting off. “She’s the best. I like her.”
I bend to kiss his forehead and guide Rayne out of the room, keeping my hand at the small of her back. The contact isn’t necessary, but I can’t seem to stop touching her. All day I’ve been waiting for this moment—for Ryan to fall asleep so I could have her to myself.
“He really likes you,” I say as we walk down the hallway. It’s not a compliment but a statement of fact that surprises even me. Ryan has always been shy around strangers, especially women. I haven’t dated anyone since his mother left, but each time I introduced him to a colleague or friend, he retreated into silence, wary and distant.
“He’s a wonderful boy. So curious and sweet.”
“He’s never taken to anyone like this.” The words come out rougher than intended.
She glances up at me. “I take it you haven’t dated much?”
