She chuckled at his obvious discomfort, so unlike the rest of his easygoing nature. “It’s an offering of love and affection, so if it offends you, don’t look.” She reached down, lifted up the cat, and kissed her head. “You are a brilliant mouser, and Mommy is so proud.” As she lowered her back down, Cosette purred, rubbed against her leg, then disappeared into the garden.

“Don’t tell her that wasn’t a mouse,” Leo said in a low whisper, quickly whisking the “offering” into the garden with a broom.

“Hey, I may be Type A, but I don’t expect perfection from my children.”

“You probably want a bunch of those.”

“Kids? It’s probably the reason I stayed with Sam so long. Don’t you…want kids?”

He looked a little uncomfortable. “I guess I always thought of that as being down the line. Like, way down the line.”

“Why is that?”

He was silent for a while, taking his time opening the wine. “My mom got sick when I was ten. The whole cancer experience sort of cut my childhood short.” He paused, as if he were deciding whether to continue. “I guess I have a hard time even thinking about what it would be like to have kids myself.”

She didn’t quite understand it, but she saw that the sorrow of his mom’s death had impacted him greatly and still did.

In a flash, he was back to being charming Leo. “My dad told me to try this tonight.” He prepared to pour the wine. “His supplier said it was aged in oak barrels. Did you know you can only get two barrels from an eighty-year-old oak tree?”

“No, but that makes me feel sorry for the tree.”

He rolled his eyes. “You would. Does it help that this vintage is French, and French barrels cost twice as much as American ones?”

“Yes. That does help. Thank you.”

When he smiled, she felt relieved, glad to avoid more serious talk. As the bottle hovered over her glass, she held out a hand to slow his pour. “I should go back to the bakery and work more tonight.”

“We’ve both been working eighteen hours a day. A night off and some sleep might be good for us.” He raised a brow in question as he continued to hold the bottle over her glass.

“Okay, fine.” She removed her hand. “But one glass is my limit. The last time we drank, I agreed to a fake marriage.”

Leo tossed his head back and let out a hearty laugh. Which somehow gave her a little thrill.

He lifted his glass to hers, then waved a hand over the food. “Mangia. Eat.”

Then he dug right in while she plucked a noodle with her fork, because suddenly she felt a little overwhelmed. With the trouble he’d gone through, with the glimpse into his inner life. With…everything.