“It takes two people to make a relationship work,” I said.

He grunted, his big hands painstakingly matching the twins’ tiny socks, butterflies with butterflies, stripes with stripes. A wave of tenderness caught me by the throat. “Seems to me this chef guy needs to get over himself.”

“Just like that,” I said skeptically.

“Did she trash his restaurant on her blog?”

“No.”

“Post naked pictures?”

A laugh spurted out of me. “No!”

“Then it’s easy. If he loves her.”

“I thought he did,” Jo had said. “But he didn’t want me.”

“She’s hurt,” I said.

“So she ran.”

“You think she should have stayed in New York.”

“If she loves him, yeah. You have feelings for somebody, that’s what you do. You stick around. You work things out. You don’t give up.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Put your head down and bull through?”

“That’s what I’d do,” John said.

That’s what he did. Solid, uncomplaining, utterly reliable John. I loved him so much. “I think they should talk,” I said. Testing.

“Maybe. Maybe he just needs time to cool off.”

“Or Jo does.” I sighed. “I’m worried she’s going to end up all alone.”

“She’s not alone.” John glanced up from the laundry, a smile in his eyes. “She has you.”

“That’s what I told her. But it’s not enough.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself.” He held my gaze. “It’s enough for me.”

My heart melted. “Oh, John.”

“I told you.” He reached for the flannel pants in my hands. “You can make anything better.”

He tugged on the pants, drawing me close, bringing me against him. A little jolt, familiarity and lust, shivered through me as our bodies connected. We kissed softly and then not so softly. I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands slid under my shirt, seeking skin.

“Mommy!”

The door swung open. We sprang apart. DJ toddled forward, beaming. “Beckfast,” he announced.

I pulled down my hem. “It’s not breakfast time, baby. It’s time to sleep.”

“Cookie.”

“No cookie.” I glanced at John. Reached for DJ’s hand. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Daddy!” Evading me, he scampered toward John.

John captured him in a hug. “Come on, buddy.” He hoisted DJ onto his shoulders. “Bedtime.”

DJ chuckled in delight, drumming his feet against John’s shoulders. This was playtime, I thought in dismay. I’d never get him back to sleep now.

“I’ll do it, John. It’ll be quicker,” I said.

But I wasn’t quick. Deprived of both a cookie and Fun Time with Daddy, DJ escalated from fretful to demanding. Mindful of Daisy sleeping in the next bed, of John waiting in the next room, I rocked him, sang to him, read him a story, rubbed his back. But every time I laid him down, he bounced up again.

“DJ, hush,” I begged.

John appeared in the doorway. “I’ve got this. Go to bed.”

I hesitated. “You’ve had a long day.”

“You, too. You had the kids all day.” He nudged me. “Go.”

Reluctantly, I let go of DJ’s hand.