Finn frowns jokingly. “Really? But Wren and I just started building our friendship.”

With the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, Aaron leans forward and murmurs something to Finn, which sounds a lot like, “Too fucking bad.”

I laugh at that, deep and loud.

Never thought there’d come a day when I’d have a good time looking at two men bickering, and yet.

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Aaron

“Mamá, necesito—”

I stop in my tracks the moment I spot Wren seated in my childhood kitchen, a steaming cup in her hands.

“Hi,” she says, voice almost muffled. Behind her, Callie is sitting on the floor, playing with Maybelle. “I came back from my run, and your mom was outside and invited me to stay for breakfast.” The words come out of her mouth fast. I don’t know why she’s justifying herself. I don’t mind that she’s here. She doesn’t look out of place.

However, I wasn’t expecting our lawyer to be sitting in the kitchen when I came downstairs shirtless.

As if reading my mind, Ma turns from the stove where she’s cooking that looks a lot like mangú and says, “¡Aarón, ve a ponerte un poloche, por el amor de Dios!”

Wren’s mouth twists, like she’s holding back her amusement. I don’t think she understands Spanish, but with Ma’s appalled expression, it’s not hard to understand what she means.

Wren’s eyes move away from me. I don’t even know if she looked. I feel myself flushing from my neck up.

To no one in particular, I say, “Just give me one second.” I disappear for a moment to the laundry room, then come back with a black T-shirt on.

“Good morning,” I tell everyone as I walk to pour myself a cup of coffee.

When I look back at Wren, she says, “Again, I wasn’t planning on coming in, but—”

“Hey, it’s fine.” I don’t know why she’s so bothered by it. Callie’s laughing as she keeps making the tiny white dog sit, and Ma is cooking a breakfast I’ve been craving for weeks, so no one’s going to complain about Wren being here.

After I sit in front of her in the kitchen nook, I take a sip of black coffee then say, “Are you planning on working today?”

She shakes her head, the short dark strands wilder than usual. “I don’t usually work on Saturdays, no.”

Her car is still at the garage—she told me yesterday that they said it should be ready by Thursday—so she can’t go back home even if she’s not working. The cabin is small, and there’s literally nothing to do in there unless you’ve brought card games or VHSs to watch movies on the old TV.