Chapter 9
685 Words
Lena’s POV
I wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep or the way Mateo clutched my finger in his sleep, but I woke up with my chest tight full, but aching. He was only four months old. Four months. A baby that small shouldn’t have had to start over already.
I watched him breathe in the soft morning light for a long time before finally getting up. Our townhouse was still half-unpacked, diapers in one cabinet, pots in another, but it was home in a way I couldn’t explain yet. It smelled like coffee and baby lotion and something else I didn’t want to name.
Ethan was already up. Shirt slightly wrinkled, mug in hand, hair a little too perfect for this early.
“You’re late,” he said when I stumbled into the kitchen. He didn’t mean it in a mean way, but he also definitely meant it.
“I’m not late,” I grumbled, pouring coffee like my life depended on it. “I’m perfectly on time for someone who was up four times between midnight and five.”
He smirked. “Right. Forgot. You’re the martyr parent this week.”
“And you’re the one who keeps putting the pacifier in upside down.”
“It’s a pacifier, Lena. Not a puzzle box.”
We bickered. That was our thing. It had been since before the program, before Mateo, before we were anything but two people with history and tension and a whole mess of near-misses. But this time, something shifted. Our eyes met for a second too long. I looked away first.
I left for my internship with a knot in my stomach. Not from nerves from him.
The firm was sleek and intimidating in the way only unpaid internships could be. I wore my most “responsible yet still charming” outfit and smiled like I belonged there.
Nolan met me at the door, that easy grin on his face again.
He walked me to the office I’d be shadowing in, and I realized I liked walking next to him. He didn’t make me feel like I had to prove something. Just… like I was okay being me.
We worked side by side most of the morning, and when he handed me a coffee with my name misspelled just slightly, I realized I was smiling more than I had in days.
Around lunch, he texted:
Nolan: “You’re doing amazing. Want to escape for tacos later? Friendly intern bonding?”
I stared at the message for way too long.
Friendly. Bonding. No pressure.
Unlike someone else who could barely meet my eyes without making me feel like I was drowning in all the things we never said.
When I got back home, Mateo was sleeping in his bassinet. Ethan was sprawled on the couch, laptop open, one leg bouncing.
“You’re home early,” he said.
“Wanted to check on Mateo.”
“He missed you. Wouldn’t nap without one of your sweaters in the bassinet.”
I blinked. “You… put one of my sweaters in with him?”
He shrugged. “He likes your scent. Sue me.”
The weird, unexpected softness in my chest tightened.
“Thanks,” I said, quieter than I meant to.
Ethan closed the laptop. “So?”
“Fine.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I mean… Nolan’s nice. Helpful. It was easy.”
His expression shifted just enough for me to notice. Not quite jealousy more like a crack of something he didn’t want to admit.
“Good,” he said eventually. “I’m glad it’s going well.”
I nodded. We sat in silence for a second too long.
Then Ethan said, “He seems like the type who’d never forget to screw the lid on the bottle warmer.”
I blinked. “Is that your version of a compliment?”
“More like… an observation.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, here you are. Living with me.”
I tossed a pillow at his head.
He caught it. Smiled like he was winning something.
- Writer
