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Sunny whimpers, sitting up. “Mama.”

“You sure?” I ask, my stomach tightening. “I can stay in case …”

He gets up, picks up his niece, and sways back and forth. “Go. I got this.”

I hesitate but finally turn away, because he does have this. He’s going to take care of her and dinner, just like he said he would.

Best of all? He isn’t going to throw it in my face later.

My lungs fill with air as I internally fight against my instinct to compare everything to Jordan. He doesn’t get headspace anymore. And Finn certainly doesn’t deserve to be compared to him, whether Finn wins that comparison or not.

And he always will because he’s Finn.

I grab my bags and head up the steps to change and unpack. Like I belong here. Like I’m going to be here for a while.

Breathe, Poppy. I blow out a breath as I reach Finn’s room. Everything’s going to be fine.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Finn

“My little sleepy Sunny bunny,” I whisper-sing, cradling her in my arms as I move slowly around the family room. The lights are dim, and the house is quiet as I try to get my niece to sleep. “Sleepy Sunny.”

She holds her bottle, her lashes fluttering as she fights sleep.

If you love me at all, please go to sleep.

Tonight has been a test of my restraint—one that I’ve barely passed. I’ve so many times wished to have Poppy here, her guard down and willing to let me be affectionate, not just physical. And she’s here, relaxed, and not shying away when I kiss her forehead or hug her.

She’s participating like I asked.

Sunny, however, is running interference.

I pat her bottom, swaying her back and forth. “Little sleepy Sunny bunny.”

Poppy’s soft footsteps come down the stairs. I turn to catch her entering the room.

My lord …

One of my T-shirts hangs to her mid-thigh, dusting against the skin that I’m dying to touch. Her feet are bare, and her hair is messy, spilling over her shoulders. She looks … at home.

It steals my fucking breath.

This is what I want. This is so … right.

“Hey,” she whispers. “How’s it going down here?”

I glance at my niece. The bottle has fallen from her mouth, and her little lips are still pursed. It’s the cutest thing ever.

“I think she might be asleep,” I say.

But as soon as the words hit the air, Sunny’s eyes pop open. “Mama.”

Poppy and I exchange a look.

“Guess not,” I say, frowning.