I loved that he always made me laugh. I loved that no matter what we were doing, it was fun. I loved that I slept so well when he was next to me, and I felt safe and cared for and wanted.

And I really, really loved the sex.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” I breathed.

“Stay here. I’ll hide you in my closet.”

“Ha.”

He nipped at my lip. “My secret girlfriend. Comes and goes under the cloak of darkness.”

I snorted.

“We are trying this out to see if it works,” I whispered. “Your siblings don’t need to get attached to someone who might…”

He pulled away with an arched eyebrow. “Someone who might what?”

I gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“I do not know what you mean,” he said, smiling. “Because I like you more than like, so it doesn’t matter if your people get attached to me. I’m not going anywhere.” He caged me between his forearms and kissed under my chin. “If you came during normal business hours, I’d make you breakfast…”

I pretended to think about it. “I do like your food.”

Wailing started a few bedrooms over. We both froze.

Chelsea.

And she was coming. The sound was floating down the hall.

“Shit,” I whispered.

He dropped his head to my chest in defeat before he got up and dug in a drawer.

She’d been having nightmares.

“I have to go get her,” he said, pulling on a shirt. He leaned down quickly and pecked me on the lips. “I don’t know how long I’ll be with her. If I don’t come back before you have to leave, I’ll see you tonight.”

He slid out the door and closed it behind him. I could hear him scoop his baby sister up in the hallway. “Heeeey, what happened, huh? It’s okay…”

“I wanna sleep with yoooou,” she wailed.

“We can sleep in your room, okay?”

The crying went up a notch. She wanted to be in her mom’s room. It was probably comforting for her.

Justin was trying to convince her to go with him back to her bed and she was crying and telling him no. The sobbing was hitting a crescendo. I got up.

I opened the door and popped out my head. He was holding her in the hallway, shushing her and rubbing her back. “Justin? Just bring her in,” I whispered.

He turned and his little sister blinked at me through tears. Then she outstretched her arms and reached, opening and closing her fists.

My heart melted.

I stepped into the hallway and took her. She put her head on my shoulder, drew a deep breath, let it out shakily, and immediately calmed down.

I stared at Justin over the little girl in my arms and he smiled.

We went back into his room and lay down with Chelsea between us. And he just gazed at me, head on the pillow, while his little sister fell back asleep.

An hour later, I was at breakfast, in my pajamas, in Justin’s kitchen, with his whole family.

Justin was at the stove, flipping slices of ham in butter and making waffles.

The waffle maker beeped, and he plucked out the finished product with a fork and plated it, sliding it in front of Chelsea.

I started cutting it into bite-size pieces while he grabbed the coffeepot and filled my mug. When he was done, he kissed me on the cheek and went back to the sink.

Nobody batted an eye when I came downstairs. I just folded into the chaos of the morning while the coffee brewed and the kids got ready for school and the dog got let out. And it made me wonder why I hadn’t just done this sooner.

I liked it.

I liked seeing this other side of him—this paternal version that signed permission slips and brushed a little girl’s hair into pigtails and made breakfast in slippers and a hoodie and pajama bottoms.

“Who wants orange juice?” Justin asked.

“I do,” Alex said.

Justin opened the fridge. “We’re out. I’ll check the garage.” He turned off his burner and left the kitchen.

Sarah was eyeing me from across the table. “We know you stay the night.”

I froze with my coffee cup halfway to my lips. “What?”

“We can hear you guys laughing.”

Alex was nodding, a huge grin on his face.

“We don’t care, you know. He’s happier when you’re here,” she said. “You should stay whenever you want.”

I was still blinking at them when Justin came back in with a carton of Tropicana. He set it on the table and went back to the stove.

“What’s for dinner?” Alex asked, opening the carton and pouring himself a glass.

Justin put the frying pan in the sink. “Uh, I was thinking chicken fried rice maybe? I don’t know. Emma, what do you want?”

I only paused for a second. “I like fried rice,” I said.

He turned around to smile at me.