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“Yeah, Pen?” I answer, inspecting the living room.

I don’t know why I’m freaking the fuck out. Blair’s been here before.

“Why are you cleaning so much?” Aspen asks, frowning at me.

I’m fucking confused too, kid.

I stop straightening the cushions. “I’m not.”

She looks pointedly around the spotless room.

“You are.”

Traitor.

Aspen’s eyes suddenly widen. “Is Miss Morgan coming?”

I hesitate. “Maybe.”

“I knew it!” she squeals, abandoning her coloring. “Can we take her to the river beach?”

“Sure.”

Aspen jumps down from her chair and races off to find her shoes while I return to the couch.

Because apparently, the cushions still aren’t fucking straight.

* * *

I hear Blair’s Kombi pull into the driveway, and Aspen can barely contain her excitement.

I’m not doing much better.

Aspen races onto the front porch before Blair has even climbed out of her car.

“Hi, Miss Morgan!” she calls.

Blair walks toward us with a smile. “Hey, my little sunflower.”

She bends down, and Aspen immediately throws her arms around her neck.

When Blair straightens, her eyes meet mine.

“Hello, Miss Morgan,” I greet her.

“Hello to you too, Mr. Ashford.”

It’s taking everything in me not to kiss her, but I’m not ready for Pen to see that side of us yet. I need to talk to her first.

Blair seems to pick up on my hesitation. Instead of reaching for my hand, she hooks her pinky around mine.

Aspen’s eyes widen. “Daddy, she’s holding your pinky like I do!”

I glance down at our linked fingers. “Guess she is.”

Blair looks between us. “Is that your thing?”

“Daddy’s hands are too big,” Aspen explains. “So, I hold his pinky.”