Page 388 of Manhattan Bossholes

“I can’t get it out of my head,” Catie whispered.

“Maybe this will help,” I said. “Have you ever had dessert in the middle of the night?”

Catie’s eyes went wide. She nodded slowly. “Sometimes. With my mom. If we can’t sleep, then she claps her hands and says it’s a Magic Night and we get up and eat cookies.”

I smiled. “I think tonight is a Magic Night. I don’t have cookies, but I have chocolate.”

Catie perked up and reached for the plate.

I set the milk on bedside table and handed her the plate. She dug in, cheering up a little with each bite.

Thank you, Declan mouthed, as I retreated toward the door.

Catie looked up. “Can you stay?”

Her small voice cracked my heart open.

“Sure,” I said, sitting down next to Declan.

“You could have some too,” Catie said, generously offering me a handful of chocolate tarte.

“Thank you,” I said, delicately accepting her gift.

“You can share it with Uncle Declan,” Catie instructed.

I bit back a smile. If her bossy side was coming out, she was feeling better. Declan’s arms were full of gangly niece, so I fed him, holding up a bit of the messy, crumbling tart to his lips.

Heat flashed through me when his lips touched my finger.

I don’t think I can keep this light and fun, I realized. He was too much. Too perfect. Too him.

But I didn’t walk away. Instead, I kept vigil with Declan, until our girl was tucked back in bed, and smiling in her sleep.

19

DECLAN

Catie gasped when she saw the inside of the fridge the next morning. “Can I have dessert for breakfast too?”

“You cannot,” I grumbled. “It’s Magic night, not Magic morning. Eat something healthy. Like spinach.”

Over at the table, Olivia grinned into her tea. “How’d you sleep, Declan?” she asked innocently.

I speared her with a look. “I slept like a man who’d been…interrupted,” I finished, mindful of the little ears over by the fridge.

Olivia had the insolence to look amused.

Women were horrible creatures. Horrible, wonderful creatures.

I couldn’t wait to try for date number two. And this time, I had no intention of being interrupted. I’d find a damn babysitter, even if I had to drop €1,000.

Olivia smiled at me, and my pulse sped up. The woman was dangerous.

After breakfast, Olivia lingered in the kitchen, while Catie dashed off to go get dressed for the day.

“So I was thinking,” Olivia said. “I thought we could all do something together today.”

I put my dishes in the sink. “I’m listening.”