curled up in it, editing or reading.
Sam appeared by my side. “My office,” she murmured.
“I figured. Looks well used.”
She laughed. “It is.”
She indicated the end of the hall. “That’s my room.”
I cleared my throat. “Maybe you should show me that another time, Sammy-girl.”
“Sammy-girl?” She wrinkled her nose. “No one has ever called me that.”
“Good. My special name. You are far too pretty to be a Sam.”
A second later, her arms were wrapped around my neck and her mouth on mine. With a low groan, I hauled her up my chest and kissed her with everything I had. I loved how she felt in my arms. How she fit against me. How she tasted. The scent of her perfume. The heat of her skin. I wanted more of all of it.
“The sweet things you say drive me crazy,” she whispered against my mouth. “You make me feel as if I matter. As if you see me.”
“I do.”
She eased back, still holding me. “Alan and I were over a long time before he left us. He changed after we got married. Money and power became his priorities.” She sighed. “Everyone thought I was devastated when he left, but to be honest, I was relieved. We didn’t work anymore, and I hated the way he ignored us.”
“I’m sorry,” I offered.
“I’ve been invisible for a long time,” she confessed.
“Not to me. I see everything about you. And I like all of it.”
“And Chloe?”
“I adore her. Both of you.”
She blinked in the dim light of the hallway. “I think-I think we’re going to adore you too.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page.”
Her expression was bright. “Yes, Dr. Taylor, I think we are.”
Chloe’s laughter rang out loud and clear as I pushed her on the swings. I had shown up early for dinner—five hours early—and taken the girls for a walk in the park while whatever Sam was making for supper cooked. Her apartment smelled amazing, the air heavy and rich with aromatic herbs and meat. My mouth watered. My apartment usually smelled of pizza or Chinese—cooking and I were not friends, although I could rustle up scrambled eggs pretty well.
“More, Dr. Ian! More!”
I smiled as I gave her another push, watching as her little legs pumped steadily to keep swinging. Sam stood on the other side of the swing, making funny faces at Chloe as she whizzed over her. Sam looked happy and relaxed, not at all upset about me arriving early and taking them to the park. She had looked delighted when she opened the door, greeting me with a fast kiss I had wanted to deepen and explore, but Chloe had appeared too quickly.
It had taken everything in me to leave Sam the night before, and I was pleased to see she seemed to feel the same way. It boded well for our relationship.
Twenty minutes later, we were in the park and eating ice cream. Then Chloe begged me to help her on the swings, and I was powerless to resist those big brown eyes and sweet voice. Stitch was clutched against the chains, squished, but I assumed, enjoying the ride.
Six weeks ago, if anyone had told me my day off would be spent this way, I would have scoffed at them. But there was nowhere else I wanted to be. The sun, the laughter, and the smiles of these two girls made my chest warm.
Chloe slowed, dragging her feet along the dirt to stop the swing, then ran for the slide. Sam and I followed, and I caught Chloe at the bottom a few times before she decided it was sandbox time. She raced toward another little girl she knew, and we headed to a bench close by. I made a detour to the little kiosk set up in the shade, buying some water for Chloe and an iced cappuccino for Sam and me to share. I sat beside her, lacing our fingers together as we watched Chloe and sipped the iced coffee treat.
“This is so good,” Sam observed. “Different.”
“Best kiosk in the park. He makes it with chocolate milk if you ask,” I explained. “I always get it that way.”
“My new favorite.”
I leaned back, snagging my straw and taking a long sip from the cup. “Funny, I have a new favorite today too.”
She looked at me, her brow furrowed. “Oh?”
I pressed my mouth to her cheek, nuzzling the sun-warmed skin. “You.”
She blinked, smiled, then dropped her gaze for a moment. When she lifted her eyes back to mine, hers were bright