The house was dark when Ethan slid the key into the lock. He eased the door open and stepped inside, Julia just behind him. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and clean linen—a whisper of his daughters’ attempts at order. Upstairs, silence held steady, warm and deep as sleep.
“They’re out cold,” Julia murmured, voice low as her coat slipped from her shoulders.
Ethan nodded, shutting the door with a quiet click. Before words could thicken the space, he bent toward her, pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss that felt less like ceremony and more like inevitability. It lingered—soft heat, wine and winter air—before he drew back just enough to search her face.
“Still hungry?” he asked, and the lift of his brow made her laugh softly.
They settled on the couch. Julia curled her legs under, tu
