And there’s something about that, something in the way it comes so naturally to her, so unforced, that tightens in my chest before I can stop it.
I’ve seen women around kids before, seen patience, kindness, all the things people expect, but this feels different, like it isn’t effort or something she’s trying to be, but simply who she is.
Mia falls asleep against her, her body going soft, heavy with sleep, and Lexy finishes the page anyway before closing the book gently and sitting there for a second, looking down at her.
Soft.
Careful.
Like she’s holding something fragile.
She slips out slowly, making sure the blanket stays tucked, her hand lingering in Mia’s hair for just a moment before she stands, and when she turns and catches me watching, neither of us says anything.
The room is quiet.
Too quiet.
“You didn’t have to stay,” she says softly.
My jaw tightens. “Wanted to.”
She studies me, and I feel it again, that pull, too close, too much, because I shouldn’t be standing here, shouldn’t be thinking about what this could look like, what it would feel like, but I do.
I push off the doorframe and step closer, reaching past her to turn off the light, my arm brushing hers, and she inhales softly.
So do I.
“Night, Tinker,” I mutter.
And as I walk out, closing the door quietly behind me, the thought settles deeper this time, heavier, harder to ignore, not just a passing idea, not just curiosity, but something real that sticks.
She’d be a hell of a mother.
CHAPTER 21
Alexis
I stare at myself in the mirror, nerves about going to the anniversary gnawing at my stomach. I curled my hair into soft waves and decided to let it fall loose. I found a cute spring dress at the local thrift shop for twenty dollars. It’s white with pink roses all over it, the fabric flowing down to my calves, with ruffles on the straps resting on my shoulders. I got the shoes at half price in a small store in town, white high-heeled sandals. I put on some pink and gold eyeshadow, mascara, and dark pink lipstick. A little blush and… yeah… I look good… I think.
A knock on my bedroom door makes me jump. I walk over, put my hand on the knob, and take a deep breath. I don’t know why, but I kind of want Dex to like this outfit.
Stupid… I know.
I sigh and open the door.
My jaw drops.
I’ve always seen Dex in T-shirts and jeans or, well… bare-chested around the house, but… damn. He’s wearing a black button-up shirt and dark jeans.
“You look…” he says, and I glance up at him. His hair is still damp from the shower, and I fight the urge to run my fingers through it. His eyes darken as they move over me, slow and deliberate, making heat curl low in my stomach. “Absolutely stunning,” he finishes, meeting my gaze.
I swallow. “Thank you.” My voice comes out hoarse, and I clear my throat, forcing a smile. “You cleaned up well too, Pan.”
I look up at him, expecting his usual smirk, but his eyes are still dark, his jaw tight like he’s holding something back.
“All right, let’s go.”
He takes my hand, and warmth shoots up my arm, settling somewhere deeper than it should. I hold on to the feeling a second longer than necessary before following him out.
