Lennon didn’t even pretend she wasn’t melting anymore.

She sat cross-legged on the floor beside Wren, one hand resting lightly on the mountain of pastel shopping bags, the other absently smoothing Wren’s tulle skirt each time it puffed upward like it had its own agenda. She looked up at Kai just in time to catch the end of his ridiculous frog-culture speech — and her laugh slipped out before she could reel it back in.

“Don’t encourage her,” Lennon teased softly, though the warmth in her eyes betrayed her. “She already thinks she’s running a small fashion empire.”

Wren gasped and immediately confirmed it. “I am running a fashion empire.”

Lennon gently tucked the unicorn headband back behind Wren’s ear where it was sliding off. “You absolutely are, baby. And you have excellent taste.”

That earned her a beaming smile and a dramatic hair flip, which sent glitter flying in three different directions. Lennon didn’t even flinch. She just picked a fleck off Kai’s sleeve like this was a perfectly normal Sunday afternoon.

When Wren ripped open her shoebox presentation with Broadway-level intensity, Lennon leaned into Kai just a little — shoulder brushing against his knee — and murmured with a grin, “She almost cried picking these out. Like full emotional arc.”

Wren nodded aggressively. “They SPARKLE, Daddy. Like destiny.”

Lennon cupped Wren’s cheek with a proud, soft hand. “You should’ve seen her. She tried them on and did this little spin, and I swear the whole store applauded.”

Wren puffed out her chest. “They DID. That lady by the sunglasses said I was FABu-lous.”

Lennon laughed, the sound light and completely unguarded. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Wren, now riding the high of being the moment, shoved a new bag toward Lennon. “Show him the jackets! Show him! SHOW HIM!”

Lennon humored her immediately, pulling out a tiny lavender bomber they’d found in the kids’ section and holding it up for Kai to see. “Okay, but tell me this isn’t the cutest thing ever. She put it on and looked like she was about to headline her own tour.”

Wren kicked her legs proudly. “I could headline a tour.”

Lennon pressed a kiss to the top of her head — quick, affectionate, instinctive. “I know you could, sweetheart.”

Then she glanced up at Kai, cheeks flushing just a little at how obviously he was watching them.

“And don’t look at me like that,” she said with a shy, playful smile. “She did all the choosing. I just… carried her bags.”

Wren immediately corrected her. “NO. Lenny helped. Lenny said I looked like a superhero. And a princess. And a singer.”

Lennon blinked, touched in a way she didn’t try to hide. “Well… you do.”

She draped an arm around Wren’s shoulders, pulling her into her side. Wren leaned right into the warmth, still vibrating with sparkly purpose.

As Wren launched into another excited monologue about Friday frog hats and world domination, Lennon looked up at Kai again — soft, glowing, full of something she’d never quite had words for.

Her smile was warm and impossibly gentle.

“Just so you know,” she said quietly, sweet and teasing all at once, “I’m absolutely blaming you when she starts demanding a backstage wardrobe room.”

Wren perked up instantly. “BACKSTAGE ROOM?”

Lennon kissed her cheek to soften it. “Later, baby.”

Then she gave Kai one more smile — small, real, impossibly tender — the kind that said without saying:

Yeah.
This feels like ours.

Kai had no business loving this moment as much as he did, but there he was — folding his arms, biting back a grin so wide it physically hurt, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching the two most important people in his life run a full-scale fashion summit on his rug.

Not even the spreadsheets abandoned on his laptop could compete with this level of chaos.

Wren had fully transitioned into her PowerPoint presentation phase — hands waving, voice pitching up an octave, everything a Very Big Deal — and Lennon was right beside her like the composed co-CEO of Sparkle Incorporated.

And him?

He was just the idiot in love standing in the back of the meeting.

Wren shoved another bag toward Lennon and declared, “SHOW HIM THE JACKETS,” like she was about to reveal state secrets.

Kai pressed a fist to his mouth, fighting a laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m bracing myself. The jackets might emotionally destroy me.”

When Lennon pulled out the tiny lavender bomber, Kai actually whistled.
“Ohhhh man. Look at that,” he said, squatting down enough to see it eye level. “That’s… wow. I wasn’t prepared. That’s tiny pop-star energy right there.”

Wren nodded fiercely. “I’M READY FOR THE STAGE.”

Lennon kissed the top of her head, soft and instinctive, and Kai felt something stupid and warm tighten in his chest.

Yup. There it was.
That feeling again — the one that made him want to swear loudly and emotionally in private.

And when Lennon added, “And don’t look at me like that — she did all the choosing,” Kai snorted and shook his head.

“I’m absolutely looking at you like that,” he said, warmth threading through his voice. “Because you say you ‘just carried bags,’ but I’m pretty sure you two could’ve taken over half the stores on the block without breaking a sweat. That’s force-of-nature energy right there.”

Wren gasped like she’d been bestowed royalty. “WE HAVE FASHION POWER.”

Kai laughed. “Yes, you do. Dangerous levels.”

Wren then held up the glitter lip gloss with reverence. “Lenny said I shine like a diamond.”

Kai nodded seriously. “She wasn’t wrong. I can barely look at you without sunglasses. Very dangerous.”

Wren preened, kicking her glitter shoes so hard the light bounced off the walls.

Lennon tucked her arm around the little girl, looking impossibly soft as Wren’s excited monologue drifted into frogs, fashion empires, and the backstage room she absolutely planned to demand later.

Kai’s grin softened into something steadier, deeper.

God, he loved them.

Loved this.

Loved watching Wren lean into Lennon like she’d always belonged there — because she did, and because Lennon did too.

And when Lennon looked up at him with that small, tender smile — half teasing, half something he didn’t dare say out loud yet — Kai felt every part of him settle.

She said, “I’m absolutely blaming you when she starts demanding a backstage wardrobe room,” and Kai let out a soft laugh, pushing himself to his feet.

“Oh, I already assume it,” he said. “Honestly? I kind of can’t wait. Because you know what comes next after the wardrobe room?”

Wren froze mid-spin. “WHAT?”

Kai smirked.
“The tour rider.”

Wren gasped dramatically. “WHAT’S A RIDER?”

Kai winked.
“A list of everything you absolutely must have backstage. Sparkles. Juice boxes. Frog hats. Donut purses. Full diva energy.”

Wren clutched her donut purse to her chest like it was sacred.
“I NEED A RIDER.”

Kai pointed between the two of them. “Take it up with your co-captain. I think she approves.”

Lennon’s eyes softened at him again — that look, the one that felt like it brushed straight against his ribs.

And Kai thought, not for the first time:

Yeah.
This is ours.
And I wouldn’t trade a second of it.

Lennon watched him from the floor — the way he stood there with that stupid, endearing grin he tried (and failed) to hide — and felt warmth bloom in her chest so fast she almost forgot to breathe.

God, he had no idea what he looked like right now.
No idea what it did to her.

Wren, who had achieved peak sparkle-radiation-level excitement, immediately interpreted his smirk as a personal challenge. She planted her feet, lifted the lavender bomber jacket above her head like a trophy, and declared:

“SEE, LENNY? Daddy’s FACE is saying we WON.”

Lennon burst into a laugh she didn’t even try to hide as she gently took the jacket from Wren’s hands before she accidentally yeeted it across the room.
“He’s definitely overwhelmed,” she told Wren, brushing glitter from the little girl’s eyebrow with her thumb. “That’s what that look means. We broke his entire brain.”

Wren gasped, thrilled.
“WE BROKE IT WITH FASHION.”

Lennon leaned over and kissed her cheek, soft and certain.
“Honestly? I think he loves it.”

Wren preened, absolutely glowing. “Because we’re POWERFUL,” she said, adjusting her unicorn headband like a crown.

“You are,” Lennon agreed, tugging her gently into her side. “The fashion power is… honestly terrifying.”

Wren nodded, all business. “And Lenny, when I go on MY TOUR, we need a room. Like a—like a—BACKSTAGE ROOM.”

Lennon bit her lip, smiling as she looked up at Kai’s soft gaze and then back at Wren.
“Oh, baby… we’ll make you the sparkliest backstage room anyone has ever seen.”

Wren gasped again. “With snacks?!”

“Snacks, glitter, frog hats… anything you want.” Lennon smoothed her hair, voice velvet-soft. “If you’re going to be the world’s tiniest superstar, you need the full setup.”

Wren practically levitated at that.

Satisfied she had the universe arranged in her favor, Wren dove back into her bags and pulled out the glitter lip gloss. “This is because Lenny said I shine like a diamond,” she said proudly, holding it up for Kai like a sacred relic.

Lennon blushed but didn’t deny it.
“You do,” she murmured, brushing Wren’s cheek. “You shine everywhere you go.”

Wren giggled so hard she collapsed into Lennon’s lap, arms flung wide like a fainting movie star.

Lennon wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tight, cheek pressed to the top of her head.
“You two are going to be trouble together,” she whispered, glancing up at Kai with a soft, shy warmth that slid right through her.

Her smile turned tender — real, deep, quietly certain.

“And just so you know,” she added, voice dropping into something meant only for him, “I really did have the best time with her today.” She paused, fingertips tracing Wren’s shoulder. “She makes everything better.”

Wren perked up at that, beaming like the words powered her.

“And,” Lennon said, eyes lifting to meet Kai’s with a sweetness she didn’t bother hiding anymore, “so do you.”

Wren squealed immediately, flinging her arms upward.
“FAMILY HUG!”

Lennon laughed — soft, warm, impossibly full — and opened her arms as Wren barreled into both of them, glitter and tulle and love hitting all at once.

And in that little explosion of chaos on the living room rug, with shopping bags everywhere and Wren wiggling between them like a sparkly sandwich, Lennon’s smile softened into something almost shy.

Because yeah.
This felt right.
This felt steady.
This felt like home.

And she wouldn’t trade a second of it either.

Kai hadn’t stood a chance.
Not against the glitter.
Not against the lavender jacket triumph ceremony.
And definitely not against the two brightest people in the room looking at him like he was the one who’d been chosen.

Wren’s shout — “WE BROKE IT WITH FASHION!” — was still ricocheting through his head, but honestly?
Yeah. Accurate.
His brain wasn’t just broken. It was a melted, glitter-covered puddle on the floor.

And then there was Lennon.
Looking up at him from the rug, cheeks flushed from laughing, Wren curled against her like she belonged there — like they belonged there — while bags and glitter lip gloss and faux-designer sunglasses formed a halo around them.

God.
He was done for.

He tried to keep his face neutral when Wren demanded a family hug, but the second the kid launched herself forward like a sparkly missile, he caved. Fell right into the gravity of the two of them.

Lennon’s arms wrapped around Wren first — instinctively, protectively — and then, without hesitation, they wrapped around him too, pulling him in until all three of them were tangled together in one soft, warm, glitter-smudged mess.

Kai closed his eyes for half a second.

And it hit him.
Full-force.
Like a chord he’d been trying to write for years finally resolving.

Right here — this pile of chaos on the rug, the glitter on Lennon’s cheekbone, Wren giggling so hard she hiccuped — this was the happiest he’d ever been inside four walls.

He felt Wren mash her glittery lip gloss into his shirt as she squeezed harder.
“Daddy, we’re a sandwich!”

“Yeah, Jelly Bean,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head, voice thick in the best way. “Best one ever made.”

He felt Lennon’s shoulder brush his, felt her softness, her steadiness, her heartbeat pressed right there in the middle of the hug — not running, not uncertain, not half in, half out.

Just… there.

He opened his eyes to find her looking at him over the top of Wren’s hair.
Her expression hit him straight in the chest — warm, hopeful, a little shy around the edges, the kind of look she probably didn’t even know she was giving.

And he couldn’t help it — the smile that tugged at his mouth was helpless, slow, absolutely wrecked with affection.

He brushed his knuckles lightly against her arm, subtle but sure.
“Lenny,” he said softly, meant just for her as Wren burrowed between them, “you make everything better too.”

Wren squeaked happily at the word better — convinced it meant she’d won something.

Kai laughed under his breath and pulled them a little closer.
Not because Wren asked for a sandwich hug.
Not because Lennon had said anything that needed answering.

But because it was the most natural thing in the world.

Eventually, Wren wriggled free again, immediately distracted by the lip gloss.
Kai stayed where he was for a beat — sitting on the rug beside Lennon, shoulder to shoulder, the warmth between them still lingering.

He glanced around at the mess — the shopping bags, the glitter explosion, the unicorn headband now perched slightly crooked on the couch.

Then back at Lennon.

Then at Wren twirling in the lavender bomber jacket that swallowed her whole.

And he let out a breath that felt like contentment in its purest form.

Because this — the laughter, the glitter, the warmth — wasn’t temporary.

Not for him.

Not anymore.

Lennon hadn’t expected the hug to hit her the way it did.

One second she was laughing, trying to keep Wren from knocking over another shopping bag, and the next — Wren was shouting about sandwich hugs, launching herself at both of them with full tiny-supernova force.

She barely had time to register Kai’s arms coming around them before she felt it — the way Wren melted against her, the way Kai’s warmth settled at her side, the way the whole world seemed to exhale all at once.

And Lennon…
Lennon let herself sink into it.

Her hands curled instinctively around Wren’s back first, rubbing slow circles the way the little girl always seemed to love. Wren squealed into both their shoulders, squeezing with all her might, glitter lip gloss transferring to anything within two inches. Lennon felt the sticky shimmer smear her cheek and didn’t care at all.

Because Wren was happy.
Because Kai was warm beside her.
Because the moment wrapped around her like something she hadn’t realized she’d been starving for.

Wren declared, muffled and delighted, “WE’RE THE BEST SANDWICH EVER,” and Lennon’s laugh came out soft and breathless, her chin brushing the top of Wren’s head.

“You’re the best part of it, baby,” she whispered, kissing the crown of her purple-streaked hair.

Wren giggled like the world had tipped in her favor.

But then Lennon looked up — just for a second — and met Kai’s eyes over Wren’s shoulder.

And everything inside her went still.

His expression…
God.
Warm. Full. Real.
Like he was memorizing them.

Her breath caught; she hoped it didn’t show.

Wren squeezed them tighter, hiccuping from giggles, and Lennon let her forehead rest gently against Kai’s shoulder — not leaning, not claiming, just… connecting. Close enough that she could feel the steadiness in him, the quiet that only showed up in rare, truthful moments like this.

Wren finally wriggled free, landing on her feet with all the wobbliness of a newborn deer, immediately drawn back to the glitter lip gloss like it was her life’s work.

Lennon stayed on the rug, her shoulder still brushing Kai’s, her hands lowering slowly from the hug like her body hadn’t quite caught up to the moment ending.

Wren turned back toward them, lavender jacket swallowing her whole, donut purse bouncing, and announced proudly:

“WE ARE A FASHION FAMILY.”

Lennon laughed, soft and helpless, reaching out to fix the crooked unicorn headband Wren had abandoned on the couch.

“Yeah, baby,” she murmured, eyes following Wren as she twirled, “we really are.”

And when she glanced sideways — just for a heartbeat — her gaze flicked to Kai again.

This time her smile was shy.
Soft.
Sincere in a way she wasn’t even trying to hide.

Because he’d meant what he said in that hug.
Because she’d felt it.
Because something deep and warm in her chest agreed with all of it.

She reached for one of the fallen shopping bags, brushing glitter from the handle, and laughed under her breath at the absolute chaos of the room.

Then she looked at Wren twirling again.
Then back at Kai.

And she thought — quietly, privately, with a warmth that didn’t scare her anymore:

Yeah.
This feels like something that’s going somewhere.

Wren didn’t stay still for long — she never did.

The second she remembered the rest of her fashion empire waiting inside the shopping bags, she let out a tiny gasp of revelation.

“My STUFF!” she declared, as if she had just discovered gravity.

And before Lennon could say careful, baby, Wren had scooped up two bags nearly half her size — dragging them across the hardwood like they were treasure chests — and took off down the hallway in a chaotic blur of lavender jacket, glitter shoes, and donut purse.

“DON’T COME IN! I’M DOING A SURPRISE!” she shouted, her voice echoing proudly from down the hall.

Lennon laughed under her breath, shaking her head as she watched Wren disappear around the corner.

Of course she was doing a surprise.

Of course.

The quiet that followed was soft and warm — the kind that settles into a room after joy has passed through it.

Lennon glanced around at the glitter-splattered battlefield that used to be the living room — lip gloss lids, tissue paper, crinkled receipts, one lone frog sticker on the coffee table like a mascot of the chaos.

Slowly, almost instinctively, she brushed her hair back behind her ear and reached for a stray pair of sunglasses on the rug.

Even cleaning up, her movements were gentle — almost tender — her smile lingering as she tucked everything into bags or small piles like she was preserving the memory of the moment rather than erasing it.

She lifted the lavender bomber jacket wrapping paper off the floor, smoothing it out before folding it neatly. She gathered tissue paper Wren had shredded into confetti and dropped it into a bag, shaking her head fondly when she found a glitter nail file wedged under a pillow.

She moved quietly, softly — humming under her breath without realizing it — the kind of content, effortless sound that only slipped out when she felt safe. When she felt… home.

Every now and then, she paused and looked down the hallway, listening to Wren’s muffled chatter as she set up whatever surprise she had in mind.

Lennon’s smile grew, warm and full, the kind that stayed in the corners of her mouth long after it was gone.

She picked up the last of the bags, straightened a cushion Wren had trampled, and brushed a little glitter off her jeans — as if she didn’t secretly love every sparkly reminder of the afternoon they just had.

The living room slowly returned to something recognizable, but the joy hung in the air like leftover sunlight.

Lennon paused, hand resting lightly on the back of the couch, breathing in the softness of it all — the laughter still echoing in the walls, Wren’s excited rambling still drifting from her bedroom, the lingering warmth of the hug they had shared on the rug.

And for a moment she just stood there, quiet, serene, her heart full in a way she hadn’t quite known what to do with until recently.

Lennon brushed the last bit of tissue paper into the bag and tied the handle loosely, setting it aside. The room was still a little glittery, a little chaotic, but the kind of chaos that made her smile instead of stress.

She straightened, smoothing the front of her shirt, and finally let herself look toward Kai.

He was still there — leaning against the couch, arms crossed, watching her with that quiet, steady warmth he didn’t even try to hide anymore. The kind that made her chest tighten in the softest way.

She drew in a breath, more to steady herself than anything.

“You know…” she said lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “…for someone who claims spreadsheets are exhausting, you look pretty entertained right now.”

Her voice came out softer than she meant it to. Fond, teasing, with that little flutter underneath she couldn’t seem to control around him.

She took a few steps toward him, picking up a stray frog sticker from the floor as she passed — Wren’s chaos leaving little breadcrumbs everywhere. Lennon held it out with a small smile.

“Wren wanted to decorate your water bottle with this,” she said, raising her eyebrow. “So, uh… consider yourself warned.”

She laughed softly, the sound quiet and genuine, then let her hand fall to her side as she stood in front of him.

For a moment she just looked at him — really looked — at the way the afternoon light caught his hair, at the way his shoulders finally seemed relaxed for the first time all day, at the softness in his expression that made her feel like she was standing on the warmest part of the earth.

Her voice dropped, gentler now.

“She had the best day,” Lennon said, her eyes flicking down the hallway toward Wren’s room. “Like… the absolute best.”

Then she looked back at him, and her smile shifted into something smaller, more intimate.

“And I liked it too,” she admitted quietly. “More than I probably should’ve.”

Her fingers toyed with the frog sticker again, nerves and affection tangled in her chest.

“I like… doing things with her,” she said. “With you. With both of you. It just…” She exhaled softly, searching for the right words. “…it feels easy. And good. And not scary for once.”

She laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Which is wild, because nothing about my life has ever been not scary.”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes warm, honest.

“But this? Today? Being here?” A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “It felt right.”

She wasn’t sure if she meant to say the last part out loud, but once it was there, she didn’t take it back.

Lennon looked up at him, a little shy, a little brave, standing in the soft golden light of his living room with leftover glitter in her hair.

“I just… thought you should know.”

Kai didn’t breathe for a beat.

Not because she said anything earth-shattering.
Not because the room had gone quiet or because Wren was humming off-key down the hallway.

But because of her — standing there in the middle of his living room with glitter in her hair, a frog sticker between her fingers, and honesty sitting so gently on her mouth he felt it like a punch straight to the ribs.

God, she had no idea.

No idea what she looked like right now.
What she did to him.
How easy she made everything feel.

He pushed off the couch slowly, not wanting to startle the moment, hands dropping from where they’d been tucked against his chest. He crossed the last few feet to her — steady steps, quiet, like his whole body remembered exactly how to move around her.

He stopped close enough that he could see the tiny flecks of glitter clinging to her cheekbone.

Close enough to smell her shampoo mixed with Wren’s vanilla lip gloss.

Close enough that it felt dangerous in the best way.

“Lenny,” he said softly — not teasing, not coy, just soft — and he reached out, brushing the faintest bit of glitter from her jaw with his thumb. He didn’t even think about it; his hand just… found her.

“You’re not supposed to tell me things like that while you’re covered in glitter and my kid’s calling you family.”

His voice came out low, warm, a little uneven from the way she was looking at him.

He let his hand fall, but only so he could take the frog sticker from her fingers — carefully, like it mattered.

“You liked today more than you should’ve?” he murmured, eyes flicking between hers. “Good. Because I did too.”

He let out a soft breath — a laugh, almost, but gentler.

“And you wanna know something wild?”

He held up the sticker for a second, then tucked it behind her ear like a makeshift hair clip, his touch lingering half a heartbeat too long.

“I like doing life with you. Not the big showy stuff. Not the music or the press or the storms we’ve both walked through.”
His throat tightened, but his smile didn’t falter.
“I mean the small things. The quiet things. The ‘help my child pick out sparkly boots’ things.”

He tilted his head, eyes softening even more.

“And the scary stuff? I’m not scared of it anymore. Not with you around.”

He reached for her hand — slow, certain — threading their fingers together with a confidence that didn’t need to be loud.

“You say it feels easy?”
He squeezed her hand gently.
“That’s because it is. Because you make it that way.”

He stepped closer still, the distance shrinking until her shoulder brushed his chest.

“And for the record?” he murmured, voice warm and a little smug. “You didn’t like today more than you should have.”

His smile grew, quiet and sure.

“You liked it exactly the right amount.”

Wren’s voice drifted faintly from down the hall —
“DON’T LOOK IT’S A SECRET!” —
followed by a crash that absolutely did not sound safe.

Lennon’s head snapped toward the hallway, but Kai didn’t let go of her hand.

He tugged her gently back toward him, eyes dancing.

“Relax,” he whispered. “It’s fine. Worst-case scenario? She’s glitter-bombing the laundry basket again.”

He brushed his thumb along her knuckles, grounding and warm.

“Stay here with me for a second,” he said quietly, almost a plea, almost a promise.

“Just like this.”

Lennon didn’t pull away this time.

If anything, she swayed a little closer — like her body had made the decision before her thoughts caught up.

Her breath steadied, slow and warm, as she let the weight of his words settle into her ribs. Glitter clung to her skin, her palms were still faintly sticky from Wren’s lip gloss disaster, and somehow it felt… right. Like this was exactly how he was meant to see her.

Her fingers tightened once around his, just enough to acknowledge the truth he’d spoken into the space between them.

“Kai…” she murmured, her voice quiet but sure, “you can’t say things like that and expect me to stay unaffected.”

She lifted her free hand, thumb brushing the fabric at his shoulder, almost absentminded — a soft, grounding touch she didn’t normally allow herself.

“You look at me like this is the easiest choice in the world,” she whispered, eyes lifting to meet his. “Like choosing each other isn’t some big, complicated thing. And maybe it isn’t. Maybe I’m the one who keeps… expecting it to be harder than it is.”

Her gaze softened, her mouth curving into something small and unguarded.

“And you putting a frog sticker behind my ear definitely isn’t helping the whole ‘play it cool’ plan.”

He smiled — that warm, wrecking smile — and her stomach fluttered.

She breathed out gently, letting her thumb trace down the inside of his wrist. “I didn’t mean to say too much today. Or… maybe I did. Maybe it just slipped out because being with you two makes it feel safe to say the things I’ve been avoiding.”

Her voice dipped to almost a whisper.

“And yeah… I liked it. All of it. You. Her. The whole ridiculous, perfect day.”

Another thump echoed down the hallway — Wren probably moving furniture again — but Lennon didn’t turn this time. She kept her eyes on him.

“You know,” she said softly, “it wasn’t the shopping. Or the glitter. Or the stickers. It was watching her trust me. Watching you look at her like she hung the moon. Feeling like”—she hesitated only a beat, vulnerability flickering through her expression—“like there was room for me in it.”

She squeezed his hand, light and certain.

“So if you want me to stay here for a second?” she whispered, stepping that final inch closer until her forehead nearly brushed his.
“I want that, too.”

A quiet smile pulled at her lips.

“And I think Wren will survive five more minutes without us.”

Her hand slid down his arm until her fingers intertwined with his again, fitting easily, naturally.

Lennon looked up at him — eyes soft, glitter catching the fading light — and let the truth fall gently between them:

“I don’t want this moment to end either.”

Kai had been undone before — onstage, in studios, in moments he’d swear were the peak of everything —
but none of it, none of it, prepared him for this.

For her.

For the way she didn’t pull back, the way she swayed a little closer like gravity had finally stopped being polite and just claimed the space between them.

Her fingers tightened around his, small but steady, and every last thought in his brain short-circuited in one very articulate sentence:

Oh. Oh, I’m in trouble.

She whispered his name — soft, breathy, too gentle to survive anywhere except right here — and he felt it travel straight down his spine.

“You can’t say things like that and expect me to stay unaffected.”

Kai almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because he was one wrong breath away from being completely ruined.

He had the urge to say something clever, something charming — a joke about frog stickers or how he absolutely had expected her to be affected —
but nothing snarky made it past the tight warmth in his throat.

Not when she touched him like that.

Her thumb brushed his shoulder, feather-light but grounding, and he let his eyes fall half-closed for a beat because damn—that was all it took. One touch and he wasn’t Kai the musician or Kai the co-parent or Kai the guy who still didn’t fully trust himself to not screw up happiness.

He was just a man standing in his living room with glitter on his socks and the girl he’d loved in a hundred different ways leaned inches from his chest.

“You look at me like this is the easiest choice in the world,” she breathed.

Kai felt the breath freeze in his lungs.

Because she was right.
Because it was easy.
Because somewhere between spilled glitter and tulle skirts and the way Wren said “Lenny” like it meant something, he’d stopped fighting the truth:

He wanted this.
Her.
Them.
All of it.
Loudly, stupidly, without hesitation.

She mentioned the frog sticker he’d tucked behind her ear and he huffed a helpless, quiet laugh — because of course she noticed. Of course she did.

Then her thumb traced the inside of his wrist and—
oh, hell.
He felt that everywhere.

He didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t dare.
He just watched her — watched the glitter catching in her lashes, watched her swallow like she was saying something brave, watched her step that tiny, devastating inch closer until their foreheads almost brushed.

“I want that, too,” she whispered.

He didn’t breathe for a full second.

And this time, he didn’t hesitate.

Kai lifted their joined hands, gently, steadying her as he leaned in — slow, deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every fraction of the space he closed —
and he kissed her.

Not rushed.
Not hungry.
Not the kind that tried to say too much at once.

Just soft.
Certain.
A kiss that settled everything he hadn’t been able to put into words.

Her breath caught against his mouth, and he felt her fingertips curl into the fabric at his shoulder — that familiar, effortless fit they’d rediscovered in a dozen quiet moments already.

He drew back barely an inch, still close enough that their noses brushed, still close enough to feel her breath warm against his lips.

“Lenny…” he murmured, voice low and uneven.
“You don’t… you don’t know what you’re doing to me right now.”

His thumb brushed her knuckles — gentle, almost shy, the kind of touch he hadn’t given anyone in years.

“You think I’m looking at you like you’re an easy choice?”
His voice dipped, warm and sincere.
“Baby… I’ve been trying to choose you for a decade.”

Her breath stuttered; he felt it.

He leaned his forehead to hers, the softest, simplest contact — more intimate than anything on a stage could ever be.

“You being here with her today?” he whispered.
“You being here with me right now?”
His hand curled lightly around the back of her neck, grounding, tender.
“That wasn’t complicated. That was… everything.”

Another thump echoed faintly down the hallway. Wren. Obviously.

But Kai didn’t move.
Didn’t look away.
Didn’t even blink.

“Five more minutes,” he murmured with a smile that tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“Yeah… she’ll survive.”

He kissed her again — a quick press of his lips to hers, soft and sure, sealing the truth they’d both finally stopped running from.

And when he pulled back, he kept their hands intertwined, kept his forehead against hers, kept that smile — warm, quiet, completely gone for her.

“And for the record?” he added softly.
“I don’t want this moment to end either.”

The house felt different without Wren — calmer, gentler — the kind of quiet Lennon didn’t get often. Not the empty kind. Just… still.

She closed the door behind her and let out a long, exhausted breath, the kind that came from eight hours of meetings, deadlines, and people talking at her instead of to her. Her shoulder bag slid off with a thud, and she rubbed the tension at the back of her neck.

Her head was still buzzing with label chatter — dates moving up, decisions piling on, everyone wanting her EP yesterday.

She wanted five minutes.
Just five.

And that’s when she saw him.

Kai stood in the warm spill of kitchen light, leaning casually against the doorway like he’d been waiting for her without making a big deal of it. His face softened the moment he saw her — the kind of soft that went straight to her ribs.

Lennon didn’t bother pretending she wasn’t tired.
Didn’t bother pretending she didn’t need him right now.

She walked straight toward him.

He met her halfway, arms coming around her waist in a slow, sure embrace that made something in her unclench all at once. She pressed her forehead to his chest, breathing in soap and warmth and the faint smell of something simmering.

He didn’t ask anything.
Didn’t fuss.
Just held her — one hand on her back, the other sliding up to cradle the side of her head.

Lennon melted.

Her arms looped around his middle, pulling him close until her muscles finally understood they could stand down. His warmth anchored her, his breath brushing her hair, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek.

She tilted her face up after a moment, and Kai dipped his head, brushing his lips over her temple, then her cheek — slow, careful, like he was easing her back into her own body.

Lennon smiled — small, tired, but real.

He brushed his knuckles along her jaw, a touch full of quiet affection, then turned slightly and guided her toward the kitchen with a gentle palm at the small of her back.

The stove was on.
A pot simmered.

Her favorite soup.

Of course he remembered.

She leaned against the counter as he lifted the lid, steam curling up between them. The soft amber glow made everything look warmer — the kitchen, the meal, the man standing in front of her with that effortless, grounding tenderness.

Lennon stepped closer, slipping a hand beneath his arm and resting it over his heart as he stirred. He glanced down at her with a small smile, one corner of his mouth lifting in that quiet way he only saved for moments like this.

She tilted her head to rest against his shoulder, letting the smell of broth and herbs and home settle into her chest. His free hand found her waist and tugged her closer, thumb sweeping a slow circle against her hip.

Her voice came out softer than she expected, warm against his shirt.

“I missed you today.”

His arm tightened instinctively around her, the slightest pull that said I’m here without needing anything added.

She turned her face into him, letting her lips brush against his neck, lingering there for a moment before she murmured, quieter still:

“Being here with you… this is the best part of the whole day.”

She felt him breathe out — not a sigh, not a laugh — just that warm, quiet exhale she’d started thinking of as his version of saying everything at once.

Lennon slid her fingers into his, weaving their hands together by the stove, letting the moment sink in before whispering against his shoulder:

“Come eat with me.”

He pressed a soft kiss into her hair.

And together — palms linked, bodies close, soup steaming gently beside them — they moved toward the little kitchen table, the end of the day finally softening around them.

Kai had already been halfway gone the second she walked in the door.

He pretended he wasn’t — pretended he was just casually leaning there like some off-brand rom-com lead who got cast because the real one was stuck in traffic — but the truth was, the moment Lennon’s shoulders dropped, something in him clicked into place. The kind of instinctive, quiet okay, I’ve got you that only ever switched on for her and Wren.

And now?

Now she was tucked against his shoulder like she belonged there, her hand warm through his shirt, her voice still echoing in his chest.

“I missed you today.”

He was pretty sure his heart did a full gymnastics routine behind his ribs.

Not that he let it show.
He kept stirring the soup like a totally normal man who definitely did not momentarily forget how wrists functioned when she said that.

Smooth, Mercer.
Very collected.
Do not spill the soup like a sitcom dad.

When she added that part — the part about being here with him being the best part of her day — Kai felt the air leave his lungs in one of those embarrassingly soft exhalations he would deny if questioned under oath.

He didn’t need her to explain it.
He didn’t need to ask how her day went.
He already knew: too many people, too much pressure, too much noise.

So he gave her the opposite.

Warmth.
Stillness.
A kitchen that finally stopped feeling too big after the divorce.
A place she could land without bracing.

And he meant it — every quiet inch of his body meant it — when he kissed her hair and let her guide him toward the table.

He set the bowls down, sat beside her instead of across, their knees nudging under the table like they’d made a mutual subconscious pact to pretend there weren’t other chairs in the room.

Kai reached for her hand again, thumb sweeping slow, lazy lines over her knuckles. He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t need to.

But after a moment, he let a grin curl into his voice — soft, warm, laced with that ever-present chaos that always managed to sneak out around her.

“You know,” he murmured, nudging her shoulder with his just enough to make her look at him, “I was fully prepared to pick you up like a Disney princess and carry you away from that door if you looked even one degree more exhausted.”

He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of hers — slow, not showy, just honest.

“Soup was the safer option,” he added lightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But don’t tempt me. I’m one foot away from dramatic Prince charming-energy at all times.”

He leaned in a little, his forehead almost touching hers, voice dropping to something warmer — not teasing, just true.

“And for the record? Having you walk into this house today… yeah. That was the best part of my day.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He didn’t need her to.

Instead, he squeezed her hand once more, then picked up his spoon with a soft kind of contentment — the kind that only existed when she was sitting right here beside him.

Domestic. Easy.
The kind of quiet he never thought he’d get back.

And the kind he wasn’t about to let go of again.