Page 117

* * *

“Miss Morgan, it’s stuck again.” Aspen holds out the shell necklace she’s been working on.

Blair takes it from her and gently loosens the knot in the string. “There you go. It just got a little tangled.”

“Thanks!” Aspen takes it back but doesn’t continue threading her shells. Instead, she studies Blair like there are a million questions swirling around in her head.

“Miss Morgan?”

“Yeah?” Blair puts down her own necklace and gives Aspen her full attention.

“What’s your at-home name?”

“Blair.” She smiles, then glances at me before turning back to Aspen. “Would you like to call me Blair when we aren’t at school?”

Aspen considers it for a moment. “Yes, please…Blair.”

She covers her mouth, giggling like she’s just broken every rule in the classroom.

Blair laughs with her. “Okay, Pen. Blair it is.”

Pen.

She says it like she’s always called her that.

The ease of it catches me off guard.

By the time the necklaces are finished, the afternoon has slipped away, and I’m in the kitchen pulling out everything I need for dinner.

“Are you staying for dinner, Blair?” Aspen asks, giggling at her name again. “Daddy’s making my second-favorite dinner. Tacos!”

“Well, if they’re your second favorite, I guess I have to see what all the fuss is about.” Blair bumps her hip gently against Aspen’s.

Aspen squeals and runs into the living room to find somewhere to display her new necklace.

The second she’s out of earshot, Blair turns to me. “Is that okay? I didn’t exactly check with you before saying yes.”

“More than okay. If Aspen hadn’t asked, I was going to.”

I close the distance between us, cup her face in my hands and press a firm kiss to her lips.

Blair kisses me back, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt. Just as I start considering abandoning dinner entirely, she pulls away with a satisfied smile.

“What was that for, Miss Morgan?” I ask.

“Just reminding you what dessert tastes like, Mr. Ashford.”

She steps away, leaving me staring after her.

Fuck dinner. Let’s go to the bedroom.

Aspen comes rushing back into the kitchen, quickly reminding me that I’m still a father.

“Should I set the table, Daddy?” she asks.

“Sounds good, baby girl.” I gesture toward the cabinet. “You grab the plates, and I’ll get started on dinner.”

Blair moves beside me and reaches for the vegetables.