Daisy agrees to pajamas and teeth brushing if it means Luke and part of a movie before bed. I really can’t say I blame her.
We settle into the couch, Daisy on Luke’s lap and me—at her insistence—next to them. Right next to them, which basically translates into the three of us crammed into one corner, with room for at least four more adults in the space left unoccupied.
She allows him to take the bands out of his hair without much fuss, if he promises to wear her Elsa necklace and never take it off. Ever. She’s pretty insistent on this point, and it takes everything I have not to smile as he reasons with her, explaining that he works in a big fancy office and her necklace might not look okay with his suit. In the end they both get their way and find a compromise: Luke only has to wear the necklace for a few hours, as long as he holds her hand.
He’ll make a brilliant attorney one day, I’m sure.
Luke is solid and warm at my side, and the TV glows in front of us, painting the room in flickering shadow. It takes a few minutes to get her settled, but soon Daisy is snuggled up and rather pleased with herself that she’s pretty much gotten her way. Her hand looks positively tiny in his and I keep blinking down to it, marveling at how much bigger he is than her and how absolutely gentle he’s being. I try to pay attention to what’s happening on the screen—there’s a lot of snow and even more singing—but it’s hard to follow amid the crisis I’m having over his holding her tiny little hand. I never find that sort of thing sexy. I don’t. I swear.
About five minutes later, Luke’s voice breaks into my thoughts: “I think she’s out.”
I look over to meet his eyes, and in this light he’s all cheekbones and sharp jaw. The ends of his eyelashes glow against the screen.
“Is she asleep?” he asks.
I blink several times before I understand what he’s talking about. Right, Daisy. The child I’m supposed to be babysitting. I lean forward and sure enough, her eyes are closed, her breaths soft and even. “Yeah, out like a light. Good job.”
“I make a pretty good bed, but I think two slices of pizza and a movie did most of the work.”
“No, really,” I whisper. “This whole night—you’ve been amazing. You waltz in here with dinner and your dreamboat smile, all adorable and charming and made everything easy. Well done, Mr. Sutter.”
“You think I’m charming?” he says, and grins. The glow from the TV accentuates the way his face softens when he smiles, and I have to look away.
“Is that all you took out of that whole thing?” I ask.
“I also got adorable, dreamboat, and easy.”
I laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Of course you did.”
We watch the rest of the movie together in silence, and I check my phone for the time. It’s only then that I realize I haven’t heard his go off for what has to be a few hours now. It’s not on the coffee table, and when I think about it, I can’t even remember when I saw it last. “Did you shut your phone off?” I ask, looking around.
He leans forward to take a drink and sits back with an exaggerated sigh. “Daisy made me. She said it was rude.”
I laugh. “Well, Daisy is the boss.”
“Apparently.”
“Think of all the texts you’re missing.”
Luke laughs softly and rearranges Daisy on his lap so that she’s more comfortable. “No, it’s fine. This was . . . this was fun,” he says with a small lift of his shoulder. “Daisy was cute and you know I like hanging out with you.”
Blinking back to his face, I admit, “I have no idea why. I’m stubborn and blunt with you. Sometimes I can’t believe the things I say.” I want to lean into him, cuddle him. “I might as well just get a house full of cats and call it a day.”
He’s already shaking his head. “You’re honest with me. I like that you know where your limits are and you stick up for yourself. I like so many things about you, Logan.” He laughs and lets his head fall back against the couch. “We might be here a while. I could make you a list if that helps?”
I look down at my lap and Luke follows the movement, moving to catch my eyes. “I like that you’re strong and don’t take any of my shit. My sister doesn’t, either, and she’s probably my favorite person in the world.”
His expression falls slightly on this, like it’s not something he was planning to say and the words have surprised him.
I swallow and try to make sense of what I’m feeling, and to explain it to him.
“I like that you’re so unguarded,” I tell him. “That you say what you feel and . . . it doesn’t scare you.”
“It scares me,” he says. “But maybe I’m just happy to be feeling something for the first time in a long time. Or maybe I just hide my fear better.”
“It doesn’t seem like it. It doesn’t seem like you’re afraid of anything,” I tell him. “Except maybe sharks. And jellyfish—”
“There it is,” he says, rolling his eyes while I continue to count off.
“Turtles, starfish, seaweed . . .”
“Logan,” he says, and digs for my ribs.