Page 26 of His Surrender

I pick up another piece of bacon, determined to give my attention to breakfast instead of the woman sitting beside me.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AUBREY

Monday mornings used to start with a cup of coffee, my laptop open to a half-dozen job sites, and the unrealistic hope that, overnight, someone had finally decided to email me back.

This Monday starts with me warming a bottle while a two-month-old watches me from her bouncer with wide blue eyes.

I’d call that an upgrade.

“Good morning, Miss Liana,” I say as I test a few drops of formula against the inside of my wrist. “Ready for breakfast?”

Her little legs kick excitedly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

By the time Dean walks into the kitchen, dressed in a charcoal suit with his untied tie hanging around his neck, Liana has finished half her bottle.

He looks more like the Dean Ledger I remember seeing on magazine covers.

Almost.

The dark circles beneath his eyes haven’t completely disappeared, and there’s still a weariness in his expression that expensive suits can’t hide.

“Morning,” he says, crossing the kitchen toward the coffee maker.

“Morning.”

The machine hums to life while he loosens his shoulders with a quiet sigh. He wraps both hands around his coffee mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“You don’t have to stay trapped in here all day,” he says after a moment. “And feel free to make yourself at home here.”

I smile. “I’ll try not to rearrange your kitchen.”

“I’ll survive.”

A comfortable silence settles between us. Dean takes a long drink of his coffee before checking the time on his watch.

“I’ll probably be home around five thirty.”

“I’ll text you if anything comes up.”

He nods once. “She usually gets fussy around four.”

“I remember.”

His eyes meet mine for a second. Long enough that something flips in my stomach. Then he looks away just as quickly, reaching for his briefcase.

Don’t be ridiculous.

He was making sure I was listening. That’s all.

I spent years inventing reasons why Dean Ledger looked in my direction.

I’m not about to start doing that again.

He bends down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Liana’s head.