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Cleo claps for joy and then turns to me. “Is the nice man with the cookies staying for dinner?” she asks, hopefully.

I glare at Austin over her head. “No,” I mouth.

But he ignores me.

“I’m a friend of your mama’s from when she was your age,” he says, smoothly. “We grew up right next to each other. And wouldn’t you know it? I just bought a condo right next to this one, so we get to be neighbors again!”

Cleo beams at him. “Really? Well, you should have dinner with us. And bring the cookies.”

She turns to me, her eyes big and pleading. “Mama, can your nice friend have dinner with us and share his cookies? Please? Pretty please?”

I melt at her expression and sigh, giving in.

“Fine. Austin, you can come in,” I grumble, holding the door open enough for him to slip inside.

“Thank you,” he whispers, taking off his jacket and placing it neatly on the table.

“Your name is Austin?” Cleo asks, curiously. “That’s a funny name. My name is Cleo.”

I look between the two of them and feel the smallest twinge of guilt start in my gut. This is not how I would have thought Austin would meet our daughter. To her, he’s a stranger who has come for dinner. She doesn’t know the importance of this moment. And Austin looks like he’s trying his damndest to act casual, but I know him well enough to read his tells. He’s nervous.

She holds out her little hand and I watch in horror as Austin takes it and gives it a little shake.Oh no, what if her abilities have manifested? What happens if she reads him?

But she just smiles. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says, properly. “Do you want to help me build a fort with the sofa cushions?”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer, she just runs off into the living room and starts taking the cushions off the couch.

“You don’t say a word about the pack, Callie—any of it,” I warn Austin. “I haven’t told her, and I don’t plan on it tonight.”

“You have my word, Yelena,” he says, solemnly. His hand rests on the small of my back and a small shiver travels up my spine. “She’s beautiful. She looks just like you.”

I spin away from him and storm back to the kitchen to cook more food for our meal.

As I’m preparing the salad, I look out into the living room and a wistfulness overtakes me.

Austin is on his knees, carefully balancing cushions to help build Cleo’s fort while she runs in circles, bringing him pillows and blankets to improve it.

He’d be a natural father.She would love having him around. He looks so at ease with her. Like he belongs there.

The thought scares me and I quickly finish chopping the tomatoes and add them to my salad.

“Dinner’s ready,” I call out, setting the final dishes on the table.

Austin and Cleo come in and Cleo giggles when Austin holds her chair for her.

“For the princess,” he jokes, before moving over to my chair, “And the queen.”

“Who’s going to hold your chair? Are you a prince or the king?” she demands as she stuffs a roll in her mouth.

“I can hold my own chair,” he assures her, meeting my eyes with a smile. The exchange is so sweet, it forces me to relax and smile myself.

Just as I’m serving Cleo her bowl of soup, I notice that she’s dropped her bread, and she’s staring blankly at the wall.

“Cleo?” I ask, worriedly. “Cleo, are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer, and I quickly put the bowl down and move to her side.

She’s still breathing, but it’s coming in quick pants. Her eyes are unfocused and she’s sweating.