Chapter 21 #2
“Did she now?” Colton’s eyes meet mine, and there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Seems like you’re settling in.”
There’s a loaded question beneath the casual observation. Are we really doing this? Can this work? Did we make a terrible mistake?
“We’re managing,” I say, transferring the first pancake to a plate. “Though your daughter is a harsh critic of my pancake geometry.”
“Round is boring,” Livy informs her father and I jab a finger at her ribs. She giggles again.
“Round is classic,” he corrects, moving into the kitchen to make himself coffee. He moves with surprising grace for someone so large. “But shapes are good too.”
He steps in closer than he needs to, reaching past me for a mug, and his arm brushes mine like it’s nothing.
It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is a big deal.
Because suddenly I’m very aware of him—of the warmth at my side.
The clean, subtle scent of his shower gel.
The way my brain seems to forget how to function like a normal, rational human being next to him.
I’m pretty sure he permanently altered my hormones, and that’s why I ended up blurting out in court that we’re married.
It has to be something biochemical, I’m sure.
Then I notice him staring at me.
I follow his gaze—and immediately regret it.
Because riiiight.
I’m wearing my oversized shirt and… my pink panties.
Great. Amazing. Perfect life choices all around, Jenna.
Heat rushes to my face so fast it’s almost impressive, and I move—quickly, very quickly—around the kitchen island like distance might somehow fix this.
It doesn’t. Obviously. But at least the island hides my bare thighs.
I busy myself with a plate, stacking a few pancakes for Livy like I’m not actively trying to disappear.
“Here you go,” I say, a little too bright, setting it in front of her.
Livy doesn’t notice anything, thank God. She just digs in, takes a bite and lets out a happy little sound, like I’ve just handed her the best thing she’s ever tasted.
And just like that, the tension cracks.
I glance back up at him despite myself. He’s still watching, but now there’s something else in the way he looks at me. And… are his cheeks red?
Somehow… that makes it worse.
Or better.
I’m not entirely sure.
He clears his throat and turns on the coffee machine as if this were our normal mornings. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Fine.” It’s not entirely true. I’ stared at the ceiling for hours last night, questioning every life decision that led me to this point. Including my birth. “The guest bed is nice.”
He nods, taking a sip of his hot coffee. We haven’t discussed sleeping arrangements beyond the immediate need for separate spaces while we adjust. One miracle at a time. We agreed on having my clothes and stuff in his bedroom, in case Livy’s mom or CPS showed up unexpectedly.
“Livy,” he says, turning to his daughter. “Jenna and I want to talk to you about something.”
She looks up, her cheeks full as if she has just stuffed five bites into her mouth. At the same time. “Is it about the wedding? I know you got married. You told me yesterday when we were carrying all those boxes.”
“Right,” I say, surprised at her directness. “But we wanted to make sure you understand what that means.”
She considers this, head tilted. “It means Jenna lives here now. With us. Forever.”
Colton moves to sit beside her at the island. “That’s right, baby. Jenna’s part of our family now.”
“So, you’re like… my stepmom?” she asks, testing the word carefully.
The air shifts.
Too fast.
Everything about this is too fast. Forever still echoes somewhere in my head, heavy and wrong and necessary all at once. We agreed on this. We need this. For her. For the court. For Colton’s and my career. For everything that matters.
“Yes,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intend. “Is that okay?”
Her face lights up instantly. “Of course! I knew you were Daddy’s girlfriend at the fun park,” she says proudly. “That’s why I thought you needed a ring.” She beams at Colton. “Good job, Dad. Now I think we need to buy more Labubus.”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not how this works, smarty pants. And you definitely don’t need more of those stuffed bears.”
“Everyone needs more Labubus,” she argues, completely unfazed. Then her eyes narrow slightly at us. “But why don’t you ever sleep in the same room?”
“Your father snores,” I blurt out.
“And why don’t you ever kiss?”
What the—is this kid working as a secret detective?
“What?” Colton nearly chokes on his coffee.
“Married people kiss,” she says simply, like it’s the most obvious fact in the world.
My heart stutters.
“We do kiss,” I say quickly, and immediately regret how unconvincing I sound.
Colton clears his throat. “Yeah. All the time. We can’t stop. Just… not in front of you.”
“In fairytales they always kiss, and kids do watch fairytales,” she counters.
Of course, they do.
I roll my eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. We can’t have her telling people we don’t kiss. That would ruin everything.
And before I can overthink it, I step closer to Colton.
He doesn’t move. I reach up, press a quick kiss to his… cheek—soft, fleeting, safe.
Except it doesn’t feel safe.
His skin is warm under my lips. Too warm. And fuuuck… he smells so good. I could kiss his neck, his body, his—
I pull back, he’s already flushed, eyes flicking to mine, something unsteady there. The space between us feels charged now.
“Um…” His breath catches, his nose brushing mine by accident—or not. Shoot. What am I doing?
“See?” I whisper. “That’s a… um… kiss.”
“Not a real kiss. Like on the mouth,” Livy says bluntly. “You look like brother and sister.”
Heat floods my face.
I glance at Colton, searching—is this okay? Because if we’re doing this, we have to do it right.
His gaze drops to my mouth for half a second too long. Then to my thighs.
That’s all it takes.
I rise onto my toes at the same time he leans down, like we’re pulled by the same invisible thread.
And then—
His lips meet mine.
Soft. Brief. Barely there.
But it hits like something much bigger.
There’s a warmth that rushes through me and my body reacts before my brain can catch up. My fingers curl slightly at my sides, like I’m resisting the urge to climb this man. He pulls back just as quickly, like the contact burned him. Like I burned him.
“Look, Livy,” he says too fast, already stepping away, knocking over his coffee in the process. “All good. Normal. I’m—uh—I’m going to shower.”
And then he’s gone.
Just like that.
The kitchen falls quiet again, except for the faint drip of coffee down the counter.
Livy tilts her head. “That was weird. Daddy always cleans up.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, grabbing a cloth, trying very hard to focus on something—anything—other than the way my lips still prickle. “Well. I can do it too.”
I wipe the counter slowly. Almost like a sloth.
Holy. Shit.