Four years ago, Chassie George Lewis gave her heart and her body to the one person she was never supposed to fall for: her sister's best friend.
One night with Nathaniel Forester became something neither of them expected-a baby boy, and a bond they...
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Chassie
I woke up to the bounce of tiny feet on my bed. The mattress dipped violently, and a giggle pierced through my pillow as I groaned, rolling onto my side and clinging to the last threads of sleep. I buried my face in the pillow, willing myself to stay asleep. But then, a weight pressed against my stomach. My eyes fluttered open. Sunlight blurred my vision, but I already knew who it was.
Ethan.
My four-year-old hurricane of joy and endless questions. He grinned down at me from the middle of the bed, wild bedhead sticking out in every direction. His light brown hair flopped over his forehead, and those baby-blue eyes—Nathan's baby-blue eyes—sparkled with mischief.
"Good morning, Mommy! It's morning!" he declared.
I looked at him and had to bite back a smile.
That one night with Nathaniel Forester had me clinging to the headboard, questioning my religion and now, I'm being body-slammed by the pelvic consequence in dinosaur pajamas before my alarm.
I pushed myself upright so he was straddling my lap. "Baby... the sun's barely awake," I croaked, my voice still heavy with sleep.
"Daddy's coming!" he beamed. "He said he'll be here in a few minutes, and we're going to the farm market, and maybe buy a baby goat, and maybe get strawberry ice cream. But only if I wear pants!"
I blinked, still catching up. "Baby, do you mean goat cheese? That's what you guys got last time."
"No. There were baby goats! Like this much." He holds both his hands in the air.
Right. Nathan had texted last night, said he's taking Ethan to a little father-son outing after his business trip, and then let Ethan bond with his parents. In the whirlwind of dishes, bedtime stories, and chasing a deadline, I must've forgotten to set an alarm.
"Did Daddy call you?" I squinted at the calendar on my nightstand. Yup. Wrote it down and still forgot.
"Yes!" Ethan nodded proudly. "He said he's on his way!"
I reached out, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over the soft curve of his jaw. "You're so full of energy this morning, little man," I murmured, leaning in for a quick, cheek-to-cheek squeeze. He giggled, wiggling just enough to make me laugh despite the lingering sleep in my bones.
Then, the distant rumble of a car pulled our attention toward the window.
"Daddy's here!" Ethan shouted, eyes lighting up like fireworks.
I couldn't help it. My chest warmed, and I shamelessly smiled too, even though our co-parenting arrangement—so careful, so restrained—should've kept me in check.
Ethan bolted out of my bed and sprinted down the hall, tiny feet thumping against the floor, his excited screams echoing like a trumpet announcing his arrival.
