My first real kiss in a very long time.
I eased back first, barely, my breath unsteady, my heart hammering in a way that was both terrifying and… good. Really good. Cole’s eyes were still closed for a second, like he was memorizing the moment before he let it go. When he opened them, there was no panic in his face. No regret. Just certainty. Warm, steady certainty aimed straight at me.
“Morgan,” he whispered, his voice wrecked in a way that made something low in my stomach flip, “I want to take you out. Both of you.” His gaze flicked to Gabbi, sleeping on her blanket, then back to me. “An actual date.”
My brain short-circuited. “A… date?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Somewhere good for her. Somewhere with colors and lights and noise, she’ll love. The Chicago Children’s Museum has this whole sensory area—bright, safe, perfect for babies her age. And I thought maybe…” He hesitated for only a beat. “Maybe you’d both like to go. With me.”
My mouth went dry. Dating wasn’t in my job description as a barely functioning single dad whose life was a legal minefield. Still, the way he said it—calm, confident, like he wantedme, as if he’d already pictured us there—something in me leaned toward him instead of away.
“You want us on a date,” I said. “Gabbi and I?”
“Yes. If you want that too.”
Panic and hope tangled in my head. Going outside again—where the world was real, where people looked, judged, where anything could go wrong—facing all the shit inside me? Could I do that? “What if it all goes wrong?”
“I won’t let it,” he said with extreme confidence.
Gabbi should do things that ordinary kids do, see outside, see lights and hear noise.
“Okay then,” I whispered. “It would be good for her if I at least tried to leave Guardian Hall.”
He smiled then—small, warm, relieved—and it landed somewhere deep inside me, right where the fear usually lived.
A date. With him.
Us.
How the hell would I process that?
TEN
Cole
A sharp knocksounded on my door, and Rowan let herself into my office without waiting—standard operating procedure for her—and dropped into the visitor chair as if she owned the place. She crossed one leg over the other, boots dripping melted snow on my carpet, then arched an eyebrow at me.
“Busy?” she asked, which was Rowan-speak forI’m about to ruin your day.
I leaned back, steepling my fingers. “Terrified to find out why you’re here.”
“I’ve been doing some digging. Into Gabbi’s mom’s family.”
My stomach tightened. “And?”
“It’s… not giving me good feelings,” she said carefully. “Old money. Very old. The kind of money that buys reputation management teams and private schools. Gabbi’s mom was one of five siblings—the youngest, the screw-up, the black sheep. Drugs. Bad grades. Kicked out of two private academies. The whole thing was brushed under the family’s very expensive carpet.”
“Okay?” None of that surprised me. Not after what Morgan had told me. “What does their being around mean for Morgan?” I asked quietly. “What are the chances of him losing her?”
Rowan exhaled. “That’s what we need to figure out.”
“Old money? Anything we can… leverage?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. Reflex, maybe—my own family’s wealth had always been less about prestige and more about the quiet negotiations that came with it.Like recognizes like, and old-money families often operated by the same unspoken rules.
Rowan gave a sharp shake of her head. “Different kind of old money,” she said. “Old-old. The kind that doesn’t need to make deals, because they already own the table the deals happen on. Although”—she lifted a finger—”one of the brothers does have his investments managed by our firm. And no,” she added before I could open my mouth, “we are not going to blackmail him.”
“I wasn’t suggesting—” I stopped, horrified she’d had to say it.
Rowan smirked. “Relax.Ithought it, not you.”
