“Noon?! I—” He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. “I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.”
He wanders into the kitchen, his movements heavy and uncoordinated. He takes in the dry dishes, the swept floor, and finally Emma, who is currently draped over the arm of the couch trying to fold a washcloth into something resembling an origami crane.
“Daddy, you sleptforever,” Emma announces. “Annie said you were probably part bear.”
“Traitor! I said no such thing.”
“You said he was hibernating!”
“That’s slightly different.”
Leo laughs, a deep, raspy sound that starts in his throat and warms the whole room, and crouches down to kiss the top of her head, his hand lingering to ruffle her hair. “Sorry,koukla mou. Daddy needed the rest.”
“You’re always needing rest,” she replies with the blunt honesty only a child can muster, not a hint of judgment, just fact.
“Can’t argue with that, kiddo.” He straightens up, grabbing a mug from the overhead cabinet and pours himself a cup from the pot I brewed earlier, the coffee still steaming faintly. When he returns, he leans against the doorframe, cradling the mug in both hands, steam curling up around his face. His eyes find mine, and there’s that subtle curve to his lips, a smile that’s half amusement, half something softer, more intimate.
The man should not be allowed to look this good before noon.
He’s in a pair of faded navy sweatpants that hang low on his hips and an old, thin grey T-shirt. The fabric is worn thin enough to trace the hard, athletic lines of his shoulders and the way his chest tapers down into a stomach that I know—from very recent, very vivid memory—is a map of lean muscle. My throat goes dry as I remember my fingertips tracing the dip of his hip bone just a few hours ago.
Focus, Annie. Fold the laundry. Do not think about the hip bones.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
He keeps his voice casual, but there’s a tiny, wicked smirk playing at the corner of his mouth—the look of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing to my nervous system. I tucka stray strand of hair behind my ear, trying to channel a cool nonchalance.
“As a matter of fact,” I say, smoothing out the sleeve of his shirt with intense focus, “I think I might’ve been over-served on the hospitality. Five stars. Very…rigorous service.”
Leo huffs a laugh into the rim of his mug, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes me want to abandon the laundry and my dignity entirely. “Only five stars? I was aiming for a life-changing experience. If you aren’t currently feeling the need to write a glowing review about the—shall we say—personal attention to detail, I’ve clearly failed as a host.”
“Oh, the attention to detail was definitely noted,” I shoot back, snapping a dish towel. “I’d say the performance exceeded all my expectations. It was a very…hands-on experience.”
Emma looks up from her dish towel, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. She looks between us, sensing the shift in the air like a tiny, blonde detective.
“What performance?” she asks. “Did you do a play? LikeThe Lion King?”
Leo walks over, still sipping his coffee, and nudges her shoulder with his knee. His eyes never leave mine. “Something like that, kiddo. It was very energetic. We just had to make sure the choreography was perfect.”
Emma’s eyes go wide. “Did Annie wear a costume?”
I feel the heat climb up my neck, a vivid pink blush that I try to hide by ducking my head. Leo, the absolute traitor, just widens his smirk.
“Briefly,” he says, his voice dropping into that low register that feels like a physical touch. “But I think the show was much better once the costumes were out of the way.”
“We’re just kidding. It’s a grown-up joke, Em,” I say, flicking her nose gently, widening my eyes at Leo, begging him silently to shut the hell up. He grins even wider.
“Grown-up jokes don’t make any sense.” She giggles and returns to her towel-folding masterpiece.
Leo’s still watching me and I have to remind myself that we are in a living room, in the middle of the day, with a child as a chaperone.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says. “The kitchen. The laundry.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t have to stay. I mean, I wanted you to, but I would’ve understood if you didn’t.”
I shrug, keeping my eyes on the laundry. “I was bored.”
