Hallie: I didn’t say that.
Avery: You didn’t not say it.
Hallie: He’s an enigma.
Avery: Plain English for the people in the back, please.
Hallie: A puzzle. A conundrum. A mystery. He’s closed off, but then he opens up. Layers. The man has layers.
Avery: Like a cake. Yum.
Hallie: You are incorrigible. I’m going to go. I have to prep the au gratin and salad.
Avery: Just relax, Hallie. A co-worker is coming to dinner. That’s all.
Hallie: Yes. You’re right. My co-worker is coming to dinner. The end.
Avery: I mean … What could go wrong with Mom, Mia and that dog in the mix? Right?
Hallie: I officially hate you.
Avery: You officially love me. I’ll text you later to hear the debrief. Or call me when he leaves, okay?
Hallie: Yeah. Okay. Also, I do officially love you.
Avery: I officially love you, too. Even if you are blind and stubborn.
I chuckle, tossing my cell onto my bed and turning for the kitchen.
An hour later, Greyson’s at the door. Mia darts up from the couch where she’s been playing with a paper doll book we found at a cute little shop downtown.
Mia pulls the door wide open and Henry Cavill comes bounding off the couch, leaping at Greyson, both paws landing squarely on his chest.
Greyson lets out a gust of breath with an “Oof!” and then he grabs Henry’s paws and says, “Hey, there,” as he lowers Henry’s paws to the ground.
“That’s Henry Cavill,” Mia announces. “You can call him Daddy.”
Greyson chuckles. “Daddy, huh?” He looks up at me, an amused grin on his full lips—as if I named my dog Daddy.
The deep timbre of Greyson’s laughter fills the front room, foreign and so very masculine.
Greyson ruffles Henry on the head and then he looks up at me with a soft, “Hey.”
“Hi. Welcome to our house.”
Welcome to our house?Ugh.
“Thanks for having me over,” he says, extending a paper bag in the air. “Where should I put this?”
“I’ve got it!” Mia practically shouts.
You could power the block with her energy right now.
Greyson hands Mia the bag. She peers down into it. Henry sticks his head in there too.
“Henry, no!” Mia shouts with a smile on her face, yanking the bag away. “You don’t get cookies, Daddy.”
Greyson muffles his amused chuckle, his eyes crinkle and he looks at me.
