This offering to rearrange her schedule, to take on a piece of daily responsibilities…goes beyond our… whatever this is.
Before I can respond, Riley claps his hands together. “And you must come to our next game! The team box has plenty of room, and Livy can play with Rory.”
“Of course,” Jenna nods, smiling. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is happening too fast. One minute we’re awkwardly avoiding each other after animpulsive kiss, and the next she’s volunteering to pick up my daughter and attend my games like we’re really...
Like we’re really married.
I watch her laugh at something Rosalie says, her hand reaching for her wine glass with easy confidence. She belongs here. That’s the thing that keeps hitting me. This sharp-tongued lawyer, who once looked at me like I was her worst nightmare come to life—she fits into my world like she’s always been part of it.
TWENTY-FOUR
Jenna
Iwatch from the doorway as Colton tucks the blanket around Livy’s small shoulders, his massive hockey player hands suddenly gentle as they smooth her baby hairs away from her forehead. He murmurs something in Russian that sounds like a lullaby, and she blinks up at him with those solemn blue eyes before they flutter closed. Something twists in my chest. This isn’t my life. And yet here I stand, intruding on it, a spectator to the kind of moment I’ve never experienced in my own family. I would have loved to have a father like him…
Colton rises from the edge of the bed with surprising grace for someone his size. He adjusts the night light—a small glowing red hockey puck that casts soft pink shadows across the room—before turning toward me. I step back into the hallway, suddenly self-conscious about watching them like this. Heat creeps into my cheeks.
“She’s out,” he whispers, pulling Livy’s door mostly closed but leaving a crack. “Once she’s asleep, she’s out for the night. She loves Rory, but he’s just as energetic as she is, so they usually wear each other out. Which is good for a parent I guess.”
He scratches his neck, grinning oddly as if he didn’t want to talk this much.
I just nod, unsure what to say.
We move in awkward tandem toward the kitchen, our socks silent against the hardwood floors. His apartment is nice—nicer than I expected—with clean lines and comfortable furniture that somehow accommodates both his imposing frame and Livy’s small one. The kitchen is modern but lived-in, with crayon drawings magnetized to the refrigerator and a step stool pushed against the counter where Livy obviously helps with cooking.
While Colton busies himself making tea, I spread my legal paperwork across his kitchen table. It feels strange, transforming this domestic space into a makeshift law office, but the case can’t wait until morning. The documents blur slightly as fatigue catches up with me. It’s been a long day—okay, a long week—and living with Colton wasn’t exactly in my five-year career plan.
Neither was leaving Matthew, but here we are.
“You know there’s a big office in the back, right?” Colton says, his voice a little rougher than usual—tired, maybe.
“You can use it as yours. You’ll need the space.”
I glance up from the stack of papers in front of me.
Right now, all my stuff is shoved into what Ithinkis supposed to be his gym. Or was. At the moment it’s just… boxes. Everywhere. Half-open, half-ignored, very much judging me for not unpacking them yet.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t want to take over your entire apartment.”
“Jenna.” He says my name like I’m being unreasonable. “I don’t need the office. It’s yours. Really.”
I blink at him. “That’s… a lot.”
“I want you to feel at home,” he adds. “It’s your place too. Take whatever you need.”
And there it is—that moment when evenheseems to realize what he just said.Whatever you need.
Because this apartment is… ridiculous.
Huge. Like, unnecessarily huge. Two bathrooms, separate ones, which feel like a luxury I’m not emotionally prepared for. Four bedrooms. A living room that could probably host a small conference. A gym. An office. A literalparty room(still unclear, slightly concerned). And the terrace…don’t even get me started on the terrace. It’s basically a scenic overlook of the entire city, complete with an infinity pool.
It’s the kind of place that doesn’t feel real.
“Only if you really don’t need it,” I say finally—a little softer—straightening the pile of affidavits in front of me so I have something to do with my hands. “Most of my work stuff is at the office anyway. I just… sometimes need to finish things at home.” Especially when I don’t use my free time to work because I spend time with Livy and him. I never really had a life outside of work. At least… I can’t remember the last time I did.
It was always the same. Work, go home, keep working, then fall into bed with some TV show playing in the background. Once a week I see Isla. Or my mom. And then it’s back to work again.
