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“Alright, gotta bounce. My shoot tomorrow is at seven. Which is a sin, by the way.”

She hugs Wren.

“You’re safe here. Don’t fight it.”

Then she’s gone, leaving the two of us in a silence that hums.

“More wine?” I offer, already reaching for the bottle.

“I shouldn't.” She sighs, holding out her glass anyway. “But it's been that kind of day.”

“You handled it well.”

She let out a mirthless laugh. “Did I? I broke down when the school called. I was terrified.”

“That's not weakness, Wren. That's being a parent.”

Our fingers brush as I hand her the glass. The brief contact sends an unexpected current through me. I pull back too fast, wine sloshing over the rim. I curse myself in my mind.

“Sorry.” I grab a towel. “I'm not usually this clumsy.”

“It's been that kind of day for you too, hasn't it?” Her voice softens.

I look up, meeting her gaze. The kitchen light catches the gold flecks in her brown eyes. For a moment, we stare at each other, not saying a word.

“I don't bring clients to where I live.” The confession tumbles out. “Ever.”

She tilts her head. “Why us, then?”

Before I can answer, a crash from upstairs breaks the moment. We both freeze, instincts on high alert.

“Oops!” Eric's voice calls down. “The dinosaur fell! But he's okay!”

The tension dissolves into unexpected laughter. Wren's shoulders shake as she presses a hand to her mouth.

“Goodness, I thought he was sleeping. I should go check on the catastrophe upstairs.” She stands, her fingers squeezing my forearm for a brief moment. “Thank you, Sean. For everything today.”

I watch her climb the stairs, feeling unsettled. This arrangement is temporary. Necessary. Professional.

So why does it already feel like they belong here?

And why, for the first time in years, does my empty house feel like a home?

7

WREN

Ihum the melody toI Heard It Through The Grapevineby Marvin Gaye, drumming my fingers on the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee to brew. Eric's in the living room, sprawled on his stomach with crayons scattered around him as he colors in his dinosaur book. Sean's place feels different in the morning light. More lived-in somehow with lots of natural warm light, despite its sleek design.

“Do you want more cereal, honey?” I call out.

“No thank you, Mom. I'm coloring a T-Rex.”

The coffee machine sputters its final drops, and I pour myself a cup, inhaling the rich aroma. Our first weekend at Sean's place has been comfortable so far. Eric adjusted faster than I expected, arranging his dinosaur collection on every available surface in the other guest bedroom. He’s bonding well with Sean too. Perhaps a little too well.

The front door clicks open. The smell of eucalyptus hits me before he even walks into the room. I glance up from the kitchen counter and—God.

I freeze mid-sip.