Charlotte.
Her leg is draped over mine. One of her hands is curled against my stomach. She’s half on top of me like she fell asleep mid-claiming and never moved. And God, I don’t think I’ve ever been this comfortable.
Then reality hits.
Maisie.
I sit up too fast and catch myself before I disturb Charlotte. Carefully, I slide out from under her arm, inch by inch, like defusing a bomb. She settles into the pillow without waking, peaceful and a little wrecked, which does something to me I’m not unpacking right now.
I grab the notepad by the bed and write a quick note.
Coffee later? —L.
I set it on the table and press a soft kiss to her forehead before I force myself out the door.
The morning air hits harder than expected. I feel loose and warm, like I left half my common sense tangled up in Charlotte’s sheets. Driving to my mom’s, the creeping panic finally catches up.
Last night wasn’t casual, it wasn’t a mistake, and it wasn’t something I can file under “festival week decisions.”
It was real, it’s exactly what I’ve spent six years dodging, anything that looks like this.
But I can’t regret it. Not even a little, which is the part that scares the hell out of me.
When I get to my mom’s, the kitchen light is on and I hear Maisie humming a made-up song about waffles. I step inside and toe off my shoes.
Mom looks at me the moment I walk in, her eyebrow raised in that way that says she already knows.
“Morning,” she says.
“Morning.”
She flips pancakes like she’s waiting for me to confess something.
Maisie runs in wearing pajamas covered in tiny cats. She spots me and lights up like someone plugged her in.
“Daddy!” She launches at me. I catch her and lift her up.
“Morning, bug.”
She leans back in my arms and squints at me, her nose wrinkling. “Your hair is messy.”
“Thank you for that.”
“And your face looks funny.”
“Funny how?”
She pokes my cheek with her finger. “Like you saw something nice.”
Mom makes a choking sound behind me.
I swallow. “Something nice, huh?”
“Yeah. Like stickers, or donuts, or Charlotte.”
I close my eyes for one defeated second. “I talked to Charlotte yesterday about the festival.”
Maisie gasps. “Did she give you donuts?”
