He still has it on.
I still have mine on, too.
Wake up, Ava. He’s leaving. With the kids.
I’m about to tell him to go. Or to go to hell. Or whatever angry thought hits the tip of my tongue first when?—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Harrison blows out a frustrated breath. “One sec,” he says and quickly opens the door.
Connor stands there, grinning, hands waving enthusiastically in my direction.
As much as I can’t stand his father’s face at the moment, I don’t let it show. I pull Connor in and give him a big hug. “Morning, hijo.”
Harrison shoots him a look. “I told you I needed a minute.”
Connor rubs the back of his neck. “I know. It’s just that, um… there are people here.” He winces. “I had to let them in.”
Alarm flashes across Harrison’s face. He’s already moving. “You never have to let strangers in?—”
“Uncle Mark said it was okay. See?” Connor whips out his phone.
Harrison snatches it and scrolls through a long string of texts. Which, honestly, tracks. When the kids text me, it’s a marathon of emojis and GIFs with no discernible end in sight.
Harrison peers out into the hallway and exhales sharply. “Mother trucker.”
“What people?” I ask, shoving my hair into a messy ponytail as I lean out after him.
The hallway is a sudden war zone of rolling cases and wardrobe racks. At least a dozen people are rushing around, measuring Oliver and showcasing pretty headbands for Snook.
And… is that fashion icon Ricardo Ricci? “What on earth is going on?” I ask.
Connor beams at me like a loon. “We’re getting glam.”
Harrison rolls his eyes. “Out, Connor.”
He nods, hugs me within an inch of my life, then disappears down the hall.
And suddenly, it’s just him and me, circling back to the stupid conversation about them leaving.
Except now I’m wondering if what he actually meant is that I’m leaving.
Well, I’m not leaving right away.
“I’ll make the kids breakfast,” I say lightly, already backing away, “and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
A big hand closes around my arm. “You can’t go.”
He looks disheveled. Panicked. Or maybe that’s just sleep deprivation cracking his control. I can’t tell.
I blink. “I can’t?”
Is he asking me to stay?
This is the moment where I should let it slide. Smile. Stay easygoing Ava, where nothing bothers me.
But after last night, after the way he still feels etched into me, I’m going to need more than a half-sentence.
