I pulled on the soft, fleecy cotton and refixed the bun on top of my head. Grabbing my slippers from another bag, I slid my feet into the worn shoes and headed across the hall.
Luca’s fingers flew over a controller, his eyes locked on the screen.
“I’m heading downstairs. Cope is making us dinner,” I told him.
“Mm-hmm,” he said with a nod.
“Think you could come with me so you don’t starve to death by video game addiction?” I pressed.
The corners of his mouth pulled up into a grin. “Just let me finish this level, and I’ll pause it.”
“Promise?”
“Swear,” Luca vowed.
His swear meant he’d try for three more levels but would eventually make it downstairs. I’d take it.
“All right. Yell if you get lost. This place is huge.”
“This place isawesome,” Luca corrected.
A weight settled in my belly. I wanted to be the one to give my kid all these amazing things. A house he could be proud of. The room of his dreams. Space to run and play.
One day.
One day, I’d give us all that and more. But for now, I’d have tosettle for one foot in front of the other. I made my way down the hallway to the stairs, taking in every detail as I descended them. The house was a mix of old and new. Rustic, aged beams and modern metals. Black-and-white photos mixed with textured paintings that brought in pops of color. But everything about it was beautiful.
Strains of soft, bluesy music wafted toward me, along with the scent of garlic. My stomach rumbled as I followed the call of both. When I reached the kitchen, I stopped dead.
It should’ve been the gourmet cooking space that had me frozen to the spot, but it wasn’t. It was the man dominating it. He stood at the stove, focused on a saucepan. His hair looked as if it was still damp from a shower, making the strands appear a few shades darker than their normal light brown.
Cope had changed into gray sweats that hung low on his hips and a worn T-shirt with some sports team emblem. The cotton looked the kind of soft that only came from washing it too many times to count. As the music ebbed and flowed in the background, Cope tapped a foot in time. A bare foot.
There was something about that, his toes peeking out from beneath baggy sweats. The movement. It felt like a sight I didn’t have any right to see.
I forced my gaze up to Cope’s face as if that would help. Not a chance when his devastating beauty was a sucker punch that stole all the air from my lungs. My eyes couldn’t help but narrow in on the scar bisecting his lip—one so similar to mine.
Clearing my throat, I forced myself past the threshold. “When you said you were full of surprises, you weren’t kidding.”
Cope didn’t look up right away. He stirred whatever was in the pan before taking it off the heat. “I don’t mess around when eating’s involved.” Once he’d set the pan on a cool burner, he turned, leaning a hip against the counter. The scar deepened as one corner of his mouth kicked up. “I like the PJs.”
My cheeks heated, but I lifted my chin. “They are very serious sweats, I’ll have you know.”
“Fucking cute,” he muttered.
The words landed somewhere deep in my chest, making a home there. “I like bees.”
He arched a brow at that. “The kind that sting you?”
“The kind that make honey. They only sting when you go on the offensive. If you let them be, they’ll give you the sweetest gifts.”
Cope stared at me for a long moment as if reading too much truth beneath my words.
“Plus, I couldn’t bear to put on real clothes after that bath,” I added, trying to shift his knowing stare.
It worked, and Cope’s devastating smile stretched across his face again. “How was it?”
I moved in closer, playing with fire. “Heaven. But you should know that, given it took me two hours to get down here.”
