Asher drips melted snow onto the table we sit down at. We’re crammed into a corner of À La Boulangerie with everyone else who lives in a two block radius of Green Street. It’s not the only place open, but it is the best place that’s open. They serve their hot chocolates with an extra shot of melted bittersweet chocolate on the side, which I strongly believe is the only way to serve hot chocolate.

“Uncle Asher, you’re making a mess.” Chloe is in a chair by the window. Outside, the snow is slushy and gray, a mirror image of Asher, who has not smiled since I lobbed a snowball at his head.

“That’s what happens when you’re attacked with frozen matter.”

“You mean snow?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you say that?”

“Because Uncle Asher has to be difficult.” I grin madly at him when he glares at me.

“Uncle Asher isn’t buying anyone hot chocolate if they continue to attack him.”

“Don’t be a weenie.”

I laugh. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. Chloe looks so pleased with herself. Asher wavers from being totally offended to biting back his own laughter.

“You become more like your mothers everyday.”

“Thank you,” she says.

Their dynamic is something out of this world. If I could freeze this moment and replay it forever, I would. Even when Chloe gets under his skin, Asher looks at her like she’s the only thing he’s ever loved.

“Hot chocolates all around?”

“And pistachio macarons!” Chloe says.

“Hot chocolates and pistachio macarons,” Asher says as he looks at me. For a fake boyfriend, he knows the way to my very real heart.

“And a chocolate croissant?”

“And a chocolate croissant.”

My eyes linger on Asher as he zigs and zags through the crowd of people and the occasional stray chair. He mouths quiet apologies and runs his fingers through his soaking wet hair. His teeth chatter lightly, his skin red from the wind and snow. I want to warm him up in very dirty ways.

“Olivia, you’re drooling.”

“I was thinking about that chocolate croissant.”

“You’re looking at Uncle Asher the way Mommy looks at Jennifer Lopez.”

Damn. Even a six-year-old can see through me.

“Are you in love?”

My eyes nearly fall out of my head.

“No, I’m not in love.”

At least I don’t think so. I feel something. Definitely stronger than like. Lust? No. That makes it seem like what I feel is only physical when it’s not.

“Well, you should be,” Chloe says. “Uncle Asher makes the best ice cream sundaes. You’re missing out.”

“Well, when you bring ice cream sundaes into the equation…”

“He can be very grumpy, but Mommy told me a secret to make him laugh and it works every time.”

I lean in closer. “I’m a very good secret keeper.”

Chloe leans in. “Tickle his neck.”