“Makes sense.” Cole sets a glass beside my plate. “But the day is over, you kicked ass, and now you can come home to a hot and not-so-homecooked meal. Then I’ll tuck you in bed.”

Why are you so great?

I look into his eyes and wish I could just pause time. This feeling is everything that I’ve ever dreamed.

Supported. Appreciated. Wanted.

This man has taken care of my son—even helped him with his homework, which I know because Ethan sent me pics of them completing it—and is now heating me up dinner.

What is this?

I hesitate, unsure how to respond. This almost doesn’t even feel real. And if it isn’t, if I’m buying into something that I’m seeing because I want or need it, it could hurt in the end.

Tread lightly . . .

Cole rests his elbows on the counter and watches me carefully. “I had a great afternoon with Ethan.”

I don’t reach for my fork.

The moon glows through the window behind Cole and illuminates him. He’s the most handsome that I’ve ever seen him in his T-shirt, sweatpants, and bare feet.

“Ethan texted me on my way home,” I say. “He had a great afternoon with you too.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“You don’t have to thank me for being a decent human being.”

“That’s not what I was doing.”

He lifts a brow. “It is what you were doing.” He stands and runs a hand around his jaw. “Look, I know this thing between us was just something we started because we couldn’t avoid it. Right?”

I nod, unsure where this is going.

“But I think we’re both cognizant of the fact that we’ve at least, at a minimum, developed a friendship.”

I nod again. That’s all I have at the moment.

“I know it was really hard for you to call me for help today,” he says. “I can imagine that you’ve managed not to ask for help very much in your life, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that you felt comfortable enough with me to reach out today.”

My bottom lip trembles. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m so tired from the day of haggling over buses, or maybe it’s that I’m worried about Kirk’s wife, or maybe . . . maybe I’m afraid of where this conversation is going.

“And you know what?” he asks, his voice quiet. “I’m glad you did. I’m glad you reached out. Because I was having this conversation with my mother when you called, which she thinks is some kind of divine timing, by the way.” He grins. “I was telling her about how I think I’m really starting to like it here.”