Page 64 of Open Arms

“Guess the movie was too much for our little pizza chef,” I murmured, the corner of my mouth lifting in fondness as I turned to Chloe.

“Or maybe the carb-and-cheese combo was just that good,” Chloe whispered back, her voice laced with warmth. She brushed a stray curl from Abby’s forehead, her touch gentle.

“Think she’s dreaming about unicorns or mermaids tonight?” I said, standing up and stretching my arms. My gaze lingered on Abby; there were moments like these where I saw so much of myself in her—same stubborn chin, same peaceful look when lost in dreams.

“Both, probably.” Chloe chuckled softly. “Riding unicorns into the sea.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Best of both worlds.”

I stooped down, sliding my hands under Abby, careful not to wake her. Her little body was all trust and innocence, fitting perfectly in my arms as I lifted her. She stirred slightly, mumbling something unintelligible, then settled against me with a sigh.

“Sweet dreams, kiddo,” I whispered, feeling her breath warm through my shirt.

Chloe followed me to the stairs, her fingers brushing against the small of my back—a whisper of touch that sent a shiver up my spine. I managed to keep my footing despite it, ascending the stairs with the most precious cargo.

“Need any help?” Chloe’s voice floated up to me, soft as moonlight.

“Got it covered,” I replied, but didn’t mind her watching my six. It was nice having someone there, sharing these quiet moments.

Abby’s room was a colorful haven, stuffed animals holding court over her bed that seemed too big for her tiny frame. I laid her down, tucking the covers around her, making sure every plush toy was within reach. The nightlight cast a soft pink hue over everything, guarding against the dark.

“Sleep tight, don’t let the . . .” I trailed off, smiling at the thought of finishing the old saying. Abby wouldn’t let any bedbugs bite; she’d rope ‘em and ride ‘em straight out the window.

“Goodnight, Abby,” Chloe whispered from the doorframe, her silhouette haloed by the hallway light.

Stepping out, I pulled the door almost closed, left just a crack so the whispers of the house could keep her company. Chloe’s hand found mine in the dim corridor, and it felt like this was how it was supposed to be. Life with my girls.

“Come on,” I said, voice barely above a breath. “I got another special place I wanna show you.”

We made our way downstairs, and I grabbed the baby monitor from the charging station.

Chloe eyed me questioningly. “Are we going to the cottage?”

“Nah. Somewhere you haven’t seen yet.”

“Lead the way, cowboy,” she said, her words wrapped in a warmth that reached out and tangled up with whatever it was growing inside me.

A chuckle escaped me, rough and genuine, as I extended my hand toward her. She placed her hand in mine, small and trusting, and my pulse kicked up a notch, ready to show her another piece of my world.

The screen door creaked as I led Chloe out into the night, the hinges whispering secrets in the quiet of the evening. The cool air hit us, a sudden contrast to the cozy warmth we left behind. It wrapped around us like a shawl, and I felt Chloe’s grip tighten just a bit on my hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice low, almost blending into the symphony of crickets serenading the stars.

“Just wait.”

We wandered along the path from the yard to the treeline, a path I knew as well as the lines on my palm, but under the veil of dusk, it felt different—more alive. Like it was buzzing with the same current running between me and Chloe.

“Watch your step here,” I murmured as we approached an uneven patch of ground in the woods.

“Thanks,” she replied, her voice soft but sturdy. She navigated the terrain with a grace that belied her nerves. Always so strong, my Chloe. Even when shadows played tricks on our eyes and turned tree branches into specters reaching out.

“Almost there,” I reassured her, squeezing her hand. A part of me wanted to soak up the suspense, draw it out until the anticipation hung heavy between us. But another part, the part thatwas quickly getting used to having her close, wanted to show her now.

“Feels like a secret mission,” she joked, a giggle escaping her lips, and I loved the sound more than I figured I should.

“Every good romance has a dash of espionage,” I shot back, playing off her humor.

“Is that so?”

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