I smile, fingertips tracing the sweat on his back, a soft, lingering gesture. “Me too,” I whisper.
Our breaths slow, the world fading away as the warmth of the bed wraps around us—quiet, steady, safe. Like a promise neither of us dares to speak out loud.
12
ASH
Talent Show
The sunlight slices through the curtains like it has a personal vendetta against me. I groan and roll over, reaching for her.
But she’s not there.
I sit up fast—too fast. The sheet slips down to my waist, and I blink at the empty space beside me.
Then I hear her in the closet, humming under her breath as she changes. Her soft footsteps pad back into the room, and there she is. Olive Hart. Dressed in a simple blouse and flowy skirt, her hair tied up in a loose ponytail, her face fresh and glowing.
She looks like she belongs in a damn Hallmark movie.
And I want to drag her right back into bed.
“Don’t go,” I mutter, flopping onto my back and throwing an arm over my eyes. “Stay. Call in sick. Fake a fever. Say you’re chained to a bed and too busy being ravished. I don’t care.”
She laughs—that soft, amused huff that hits me right in the chest. “Ash, it’s Tuesday. My class starts at eight.”
I peek at her from under my arm. “So? Cancel it. The kids can read silently or eat paste or whatever kindergarteners do.”
She crosses the room to grab her shoes. “They’re five. I don’t think ‘spontaneous self-guided education’ is a viable plan.”
I groan louder. “You’re heartless.”
She leans down and kisses my cheek. “You’re clingy.”
“Am not.”
“You literally just asked me to skip work and stay in bed with you all day.”
“Because there’s still so much I want to do to you,” I grumble, tugging gently at her wrist to pull her closer.
She laughs again but lets me guide her until she’s straddling me over the covers. “You’re ridiculous,” she says, voice soft, almost fond. “But if you’re that desperate to spend the day with me… why don’t you come?”
“Right,” I say, pushing up from the bed. “Guess I better get dressed, then.”
She blinks. “Wait—you actually want to come?”
I shrug. “If you’ll have me.”
Her mouth parts in surprise. “Uh… yeah. Of course. I just didn’t expect you to say yes. We’re actually having a talent show today. The kids have been practicing for weeks.”
I nod like I know what that means. “Talent show, huh? What kind of talents are we talking about? Interpretive dance? Animal impressions? Dramatic finger painting?”
She snorts. “Mostly lip-syncing and cardboard guitars. One of my kids plans to juggle teddy bears. It’s very high-stakes.”
I grin. “And will Miss Hart be performing as well? Maybe a dramatic reading from one of her steamy romance novels?”
Her hand pauses mid-air while applying her lipstick. “First of all—absolutely not. Second of all, no. The kids are the stars today.” She turns to me for a second and looks at me. “You’d really want to go? Won’t you be mobbed?”
I shrug. “I’ll wear a hoodie and sunglasses. Blend in like a suburban dad who lost his way to Costco.”
