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I slip out of her room then.

In my bathroom, I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection. The events of the previous night rush back to me. Like I could even forget any of what happened. The feel of Wren’s body curled against mine, her breath soft and even against my chest.

I splash more water on my face. A small voice at the back of my mind protested.

What am I doing? Getting involved with a client is unprofessional enough. But Wren isn't just any client.

She's Jen’s best friend.

The complication I swore to avoid when starting this charade.

I should regret it. This complicates the arrangement we negotiated. But watching her sleep this morning, her usual guard down, her features peaceful, I can't bring myself to wish it hadn't happened.

After Rachel’s death, I threw myself into taking care of Jen and my demanding career. Nothing else mattered to me. Once, I’d been forced to choose between my growing career and our marriage and I'd chosen wrong too many times. By the time I realized it, she was already gone.

Since then, I've dated a few times. Nothing serious. Nothing that threatened the balance of work and my daughter. Nothing that required me to open up again.

I like my independence. My space.

But Wren…

The doorbell rings.

Wren’s voice drifts from outside my bedroom door. “Sean? Are you ready? I don't know why they didn't come in.”

I frown. “Almost. Maybe she isn't with her key?”

I finish dressing and emerge to find Wren looking fresh in jeans and a soft blue sweater, her hair pulled back in a casual ponytail.

“How do you look so put together?” I run a hand through my rumpled hair.

She shrugs.

“Years of rushing to set.”

The doorbell rings again.

“Helloooooo?” Jen’s voice carries through the house like a warning siren.

We look at each other, holding back laughter before rushing downstairs.

We reach the front door at the same time, our hands colliding on the knob. The brief contact sends an electric current up my arm.

“I got it.” She pulls away.

“No, I can?—”

“It's fine, I'll just?—”

We both reach again, bumping shoulders.

“Sorry,” we say in unison.

Wren takes a deep breath and opens the door.

“Morning!” Jen breezes in with Eric trailing behind her, shopping bags in one hand and a tray of coffee in the other. “We brought breakfast pastries! And your favorite latte, Wren.”

“You're a lifesaver.” Wren hugs her son and takes the coffee, her smile too bright.