“That’s observational.”
“That’s suggestive.”
A slow exhale leaves him, almost a laugh, but not quite. “You’re the one calling it suggestive,” he says quietly. “What exactly are you suggesting, Frey?” He says, moving ever so slightly closer.
Fuck me sideways, this man will be the death of me.
And there it is. That subtle step over the line. My stomach flips in a way that is both thrilling and deeply inconvenient.
“Nothing,” I reply, far too quickly.
“Right.”
He runs a hand through his hair like he’s annoyed with himself, like he knows he’s trying something and doesn’t trust where it leads.
Theo tugs at my coat sleeve.
“Mum, can Isla come over soon? Please? We’ve been asking forever.”
Isla nods emphatically, like this is the most pressing issue in her small, glitter-covered life.
“Daddy said he has to ask you.”
I look at Rory. There’s something almost cautious in his expression, which surprises me. Like he’s weighing more than just logistics. He brushes a hand on the back of his neck and looks away, almost guilty this time. He definitely hasn’t asked me.
“It’s fine,” I say, because it is fine, and because I refuse to let a brush of hands in the bakery section derail basic parenting. “Bring her round tomorrow after school.”
His head tilts slightly. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes, we’re free, are you?”
Theo beams like I’ve just secured a peace treaty.
Rory hesitates, just enough that I notice. “I… er… yeah. I don’t have to stay,” he says carefully. “If that makes things easier.”
Easier. The word sits between us.
“It’s a playdate,” I reply, keeping my tone light. “Not a conference. You can drop her off, or you can stay. It’s up to you.”
His gaze lingers on me as though he’s trying to read something I’m not offering.
“Four o’clock?” he says finally.
“Four’s fine.”
The kids have already moved on to planning Lego fortifications and snack hierarchies, weaving between us like this decision is the most natural thing in the world.
Rory steps back. “See you tomorrow,” he says.
And something about the way he says it feels unsure. Like he’s nervous. I can’t lie, I am too. The air is so charged between us, especially when we’re alone. I don’t know if I’d rather he dropped Isla off and left, or he stayed so that I can soak in every second of his magnetic pull.
Jesus Freya, you’re playing with fire.
I watch him walk toward the freezer section, Isla skipping beside him, and try to ignore the warmth still lingering where his hand had rested on mine.
It’s just a playdate. And yet, walking toward the checkout with Theo rambling about elite tier biscuits, I can’t shake the sense that I’ve just opened a door neither of us fully trusts ourselves to walk through.
Chapter eighteen
