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I grin as I watch him scratch the back of his neck nervously. We haven’t discussed anything, but it looks like our minds are on the same page.

“Well,” he says, glancing over at me. “I kind of assumed we wouldn’t be driving back until morning.”

Joy’s eyes widen, her mouth forming a small ‘o’. She looks so freaking adorable; I swear my heart swells in my chest.

“Fine by me.” I wink at them before resuming rummaging in my cupboards for cooking chocolate and cinnamon. “I was hoping you would.”

Aldo goes to hang the coats up by the door, and I grab a saucepan and pour in some milk. It’s hard not to get excited, and I have to keep reminding myself that just because they’re spending the rest of the day here and staying the night, it doesn’t mean it will lead to sex. I really, really want it to, though. It’s been a long week of lingering touches and brief kisses followed by evenings of replaying last weekend over and over in my head. At least Aldo can spend time with Joy around campus. My time with them is limited, and I plan on making the most of every second tonight.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Aldo drops into a seat at the dining table, his defeated look from earlier back with a vengeance. I frown, but then Joy bumps me with her hip and when I turn to look at her, she presses a small piece of chocolate into her mouth with a grin.

“Naughty,” I scold. “Stop stealing the ingredients.”

“Oh, come on. It was a tiny piece.”

“Well, don’t complain if your hot chocolate isn’t chocolaty enough.” She sticks her tongue out at me and I scoop her up, placing her down on the opposite counter and pointing at her with the spoon. “Stay.”

As I turn back to the stove, I catch Aldo watching us. He smiles when I meet his eye, but it’s fake as fuck.

“Change of plans, JoyJoy,” I say, pulling her down off the counter and handing her the spoon. “Don’t stop stirring this, okay?”

I drop a kiss on the top of her head then make my way over to Aldo. He’s still wearing his red beanie, looking like a Ralph Lauren model in a white knitted sweater and dark jeans, and he straightens as I approach, as if he’s in trouble.

Tugging the beanie from his head, I drop into a crouch between his spread legs and place my hands on his thighs. “What’s wrong? Is this about Doug?”

“I’m fine.” He places his hands over the top of mine. “Honestly.”

“Liar,” Joy calls over her shoulder.

I grin as Aldo scowls at her, but she just sticks her tongue out and returns to her stirring. Rubbing my hands up and down his thighs, I wait until he looks at me before speaking. “I’m going to finish making this hot chocolate. And then, you’re going to tell me exactly what’s bothering you. Okay?”

My words are gentle, but I lace them with a commanding authority that has him swallowing as he nods. Squeezing his thighs one last time, I push back up onto my feet and return to the stove.

Joy looks good enough to eat, and her oversized gray sweater keeps slipping off her shoulder in a way that’s far too tempting. I move behind her and wrap my arms around her, nuzzling into her neck, but she giggles and squirms out of my reach.

“Is this done?”

Taking the spoon from her, I give it a stir. “Yeah. Can you grab the mugs from over there, please?”

It smells delicious. Like Christmas. Which is the last time I made it. The ingredients are leftovers from the holidays when I made hot chocolate for my nieces and nephew. Pouring the thick liquid into the mugs, I hand one to Joy, then pick up the other two and head out of the kitchen toward my sofa.

Aldo stands and follows, and I wait until he’s seated at one end before placing his mug down on the coffee table. “It’ll be a bit too hot to drink yet.”

“Thanks,” he says. “It smells incredible.”

“I’m no chef,” I admit. “But I can make a damn good hot chocolate.”

Joy sits down in the middle of the sofa, and I pick up the remote, flicking through the channels until I find an action movie from years ago that I’ve seen a few times, turning the volume low.

When I sit down on Joy’s other side, I meet Aldo’s eye and he looks like he wants to run. “Time to talk, Rossi. This is only going to work if we’re honest with each other.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Joy says. “We need to talk about Doug.”

Aldo’s eyes widen as he looks between the two of us. “Doug? Why?”

Wrapping my arms around Joy, I pull her onto my lap. It’s reflex, but as soon as I do it, I wonder whether it looks like we’re ganging up on Aldo. I shouldn’t have worried, though, because Joy places her feet on his lap as though she hasn’t just put that look of fear on his face.

“You kissed him today,” she says.

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