“Probably,” I agreed, heading to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. When I returned, Rory was working herself up into a full-blown cry, her face reddening with the effort.
“Here,” I said, handing Harper the bottle. “Do you mind feeding her while I grab her blanket from upstairs? She’ll want it after she eats.”
“Of course not,” Harper said, taking the bottle and settling Rory more comfortably in her arms.
When I came back downstairs with the soft pink blanket Ava had bought, I paused in the doorway. Harper was singing softly to Rory as she fed her, that same lullaby she always sang. Her voice was low and sweet, wrapping around the words like she was casting a spell.
Something twisted in my chest, a feeling I couldn’t name but that stopped me in my tracks.
I must have made a sound, because Harper looked up, a slight flush coloring her cheeks when she realized I’d been watching.
“Sorry,” she said. “Force of habit.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said, moving into the room. “She loves it when you sing to her.”
I sat down beside them on the couch, close enough that our shoulders were almost touching. Rory’s eyes wereheavy-lidded as she finished her bottle, milk drunk and content.
“Do you want me to burp her?” I asked, reaching for a burp cloth.
“I’ve got it,” Harper said, expertly shifting Rory to her shoulder and patting her back with gentle rhythm.
The domesticity of the moment struck me—sitting beside Harper on my couch, watching her care for my daughter with such natural ease. If someone had told me a month ago that this would be my life, I would have laughed in their face.
“So,” Harper said after a moment. “I think our proposal went over well today.”
“Definitely,” I said. “Professor Keene looked genuinely impressed.”
“It’s funny,” Harper mused, still patting Rory’s back. “A few weeks ago, I was dreading having to work with you on this project. Now it doesn’t seem so bad.”
The admission hung in the air between us, loaded with implications neither of us seemed ready to address.
“Well, we’ve got the whole rest of the semester to work on it,” I pointed out. “So you’re stuck with me for a while yet.”
Harper smiled, but it seemed kind of wistful. “True.”
Rory let out a surprisingly loud burp for such a tiny human, and we both laughed, the tension broken.
“That’s my girl,” I said proudly. “Already mastering the hockey player skill set.”
Harper shook her head, but she was still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Part of my charm.”
“Is that what you call it?”
Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like electricitypulsed between us. Then Rory squirmed, breaking the moment, and Harper carefully handed her back to me.
“I should probably go,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “I’ve got some practice time booked in the music building.”
“Right, okay,” I said, settling Rory against my chest. “Thanks for hanging out with us for a bit.”
“Anytime,” Harper said, and I had the strange feeling she truly meant it.
As she gathered her things, her hand brushed against mine when we both reached for her music folder that had fallen partially under the coffee table. The contact was brief but unmistakable—a jolt of awareness that had nothing to do with static electricity and everything to do with the way her brown eyes widened slightly when our fingers touched.
“Sorry,” we both said at the same time, then laughed awkwardly.
I walked her to the door, Rory still cradled against my shoulder.
