“So leave,” I said and walked straight in.
Emma ran to me—chubby arms swinging, cheeks bouncing, all the round sweetness of a three-year-old pressed to my face as soon as I picked her up.
“Hello, baby,” I planted a big kiss on her cheek. “Ready for some play time?”
She nodded vigorously and pointed at her toys on the carpet, some of which had escaped the chic woven baskets Nicole specifically bought to store them.
She appeared from the hallway, fastening an earring. “They already ate. You can give them a little snack, and please make sure they go to sleep on time. Chloe’s allowed some phone time, as long as it’s done thirty minutes before bedtime.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Her phone is on the top shelf in my bedroom. I hid it so she’d focus on her math paper. She should be done by now, but she’s not in a good mood.” A pointed look emphasized just how bad her mood actually was.
Simon and Nicole had some struggles, which was why there was a nine-year gap between their daughters.
“Don’t worry. Go, enjoy your night out.”
“Be good, Emma.” Nicole kissed the little one’s forehead, then turned as Owen walked in with a bag of gifts.
“Oh, look who’s here!” she announced.
She hurried to hug him, beaming. “You’re coming for dinner, and we’ll catch up, yeah?” she said, already breaking for the door, where Simon was impatiently motioning her along. “It’s amazing how you two always fall right back into place, as if years and planes weren’t involved.”
Owen smiled. “Have fun. We’ll be great over here, and I can’t wait for that dinner.”
The front door closed, and Owen turned to me and Emma, who was still in my arms.
“And where’s my goddaughter?” His grin was bright. “There she is! Emma, you’re so big! And pretty and sweet!”He gently stroked her feathery curls. “And I know you like presents, right?”
Emma nodded so vigorously that I almost lost my balance.
She had a slight language development delay, something that always knotted my stomach with worry.
She leaned forward in my arms to peer into the bag Owen was opening, shifting her weight so much that I tipped slightly toward him.
“Your dad told me this got too small for you,” Owen said, pulling out a tiny, Westbridge FC #7 jersey in dark green and white, withWheatonprinted across the back.
Emma’s round eyes widened as she grabbed it.
“What do we say when we get a present?” I prompted gently.
“Auntie Wio get one too?” she asked.
I laughed. “We say thank you to Owen.”
“Wait, there’s more ...” Owen drew out a plush toy.
Emma shrieked. “Bluey! T’ank you!”
She squirmed in my arms, eager to get to play with her new stuffie, so I set her down, and she ran straight to one of the overflowing toy boxes.
“Great way to become a favorite,” I teased Owen.
He clicked his tongue, grinning as he threw his hands up in aWhat can I say? I’m irresistiblegesture. “Auntie Wio wants a jersey, too?” He winked.
I gave him a lopsided smile that saidyou’re so full of it.“You’ll need that charm with Chloe. She’s officially becoming a teenager. And I hear she’s particularly moodytoday—fresh off a math paper, which sheloves.” I injected all my lifelong hatred of math into that last word.
“We’ve got this,” Owen said quietly, his eyes locked on mine.
And there it was again—that little smile that told me he was in this—whateverthiswas—with me.
“I’ll go check on her,” I said, breaking eye contact before the whole room disappeared from my peripheral vision and it reallywasjust him and me, alone somewhere.
