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Because there, standing in the middle of the space as some Greek sculpture comes to life, is Blake.

And he’s shirtless.

Track pants hang low on his hips, revealing the sharp cut of his abs - the kind of defined muscle that looks almost unfair. His broad chest is all lean strength, his biceps flexing slightly as he runs a hand through his already messy hair. A light dusting of stubble shadows his jaw, making him look even more rugged than usual.

Oh.

It’s been years since I last saw him like this, and he’s gotten more built. The Blake I knew was fit, sure, but this? This is a whole different level of unfairness.

His abs? There are six. Maybe eight. Who is counting?

Oh, for the love of God.

“PUT ON A SHIRT!” I blurt, throwing my hands over my eyes like some Victorian maiden about to faint.

Blake drops his arms, lips twitching as he glances down at himself. “Good morning to you too.”

I peek through my fingers, glaring. “Seriously. Some of us weren’t prepared for a full-on Magic Mike moment before coffee.”

“What’s a Magic Mike?” Mia asks.

I drop my hands. “Nothing! Forget I said that. Seriously, this is a violation. There are children present!”

Mia tilts her head. “What’s wrong?”

I gesture wildly at Blake, while Nico answers Mia, “Daddy has no shirt.”

“But Daddy has no shirt every morning.”

“Glad we’re all observant.” Blake chuckles, crossing his arms over his very, very distracting chest. “Relax. It’s just a body, Whit.”

I hear the amusement in his tone and groan. Smug ass.

“Did you at least sleep well?” He asks, sounding way too casual for someone half-naked in front of company.

I cross my arms, still facing away from him. “I did.”

“Daddy, we made her wake up!” Mia announces proudly.

Beside her, Nico lets out a dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like a tiny, exasperated adult. “Mia,” he groans, “I thought we weren’t gonna tell, Daddy.”

Mia gasps, slapping both hands over her mouth like she just spilled a government secret. Then, ever so slowly, she turns to Blake, eyes wide, lips pressing into a wobbly pout.

"Daddy," she says sweetly, tilting her head, blinking up at him with the biggest, most innocent puppy-dog eyes - "can you forget I told you that?"

“Oh? You want me to forget?”

Mia nods furiously. “Yes, please.”

Nico sighs, rubbing his forehead like he has been dealing with her antics for years. “You’re so bad at secrets.”

Mia sticks her tongue out at him.

Blake chuckles, setting his mug down. “Alright, kiddo. I will forget about it.”

Mia beams. “Yay!” Then she leans toward Nico and whispers (not very quietly), “See? He won’t remember.”

Blake smirks over the rim of his mug. “I was wondering why you guys were up this early. You usually wake up at 7:30 a.m.”