“Right,” I nodded. “And I can do that. With maybe a little fun mixed in.”
“She has fun,” he said immediately.
“I’m sure she does,” I replied, not pushing, just steady. “But I’m also pretty sure she’ll survive if we go off-script a little.”
“That’s how it starts.”
I smiled despite myself. “You might want to loosen up a little.”
His green eyes narrowed, but there was less edge to it now. Less resistance. More thought.
“Someone has to keep things in line.”
“And someone has to remind you it’s okay if they’re not,” I said.
And for some reason, that felt like more than just winning an argument.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” he said again. “If anything feels off, you call me.”
“I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I know,” I said, meeting his gaze.
“I appreciate it,” he said finally.
It wasn’t casual.
“I know,” I replied softly.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Harper’s voice cut through it, bright and hopeful. She stood near the table, watching us and waiting for the answer with an eager smile.
I glanced at Logan before looking back at her. “Am I invited?”
“Yes,” she said immediately. “We’re having spaghetti, and I help, and sometimes I mess it up, but Daddy says it’s okay.”
I smiled, warmth spreading through me before I could stop it.
“Sounds like a pretty good deal.”
She looked at Logan expectantly.
He hesitated.
Of course he did.
Then he nodded once. “Stay.”
Simple, direct.
But it landed somewhere deeper than it should have.
And as Harper grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the table as if I’d always been part of this, I felt it again—that shift I hadn’t figured out how to name.
This wasn’t just babysitting.
It wasn’t just helping.
