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Wren’s face colors and she bursts into a mirthless laughter. “What? No, not like that. The gala ran late and then we had to?—”

I nod. “Discuss strategy for the upcoming?—”

“Right, the strategy for dealing with?—”

“Product launch,” I finish.

“The media,” Wren says at the same time.

We stare at each other in horror.

Jen looks like she's watching a tennis match. “Uh-huh.”

Eric, oblivious to the tension, pulls out a pastry. “Can we eat outside? It's nice today.”

“Great idea!” Wren rushes to say.

By the time breakfast is on the table, Jen’s looking between us like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. I avoid her gaze, but my knee keeps brushing Wren’s under the table. Every touch jolts something inside me.

This isn’t what I planned. I was supposed to keep it simple. Professional.

But then she looks at me and smiles, and I want to kiss her again.

I hate how easy it is to fall into her.

“Want to kick the ball around now?” I ask Eric, desperate for distraction.

His face lights up. “Yeah!”

Outside in the backyard, tossing a soccer ball with Eric proves to be what I need. The simple physical activity clears myhead. Eric is skilled, his movements precise and confident for a kid his age. I tell him that.

“It’s a talent, right? I play better than all my friends. Maybe I’ll grow to be a soccer player like Messi,” he says when I compliment him.

I laugh. “Messi, huh? I say you’re even better than he was at your age.”

“Mom tries to play with me sometimes, but she says sports isn't her thing.”

I glance over at Wren, who's watching us from a patio chair with Jen, legs tucked underneath them, sipping coffee like everything’s normal. She smiles when our eyes meet, and my chest tightens again.

I should feel bad. But I don’t.

I just want more time with her.

And that’s dangerous territory. I know it very well.

“Sean! Watch out!”

I turn just in time to see the soccer ball flying toward my face. I duck, avoiding getting hit by an inch, and stumble backward into a bush.

Eric doubles over laughing while the women try to hide their amusement.

“Dad? You okay over there?” Jen calls, suppressed laughter in her voice.

“Just wounded pride,” I answer, extracting myself from the shrub.

“You weren't even looking!” Eric giggles.

“Got distracted,” I mutter, brushing leaves from my clothes.