Page 142 of Sexting the Boss
Then I laugh, because of course he did.
I walk over, press my shoulder into his, and kiss Sofia’s soft little head. She smells like milk and clean laundry and that sweet baby scent that makes your brain melt.
Ethan’s hand slides to the small of my back.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, the real question, the one he always asks when he thinks I’m carrying too much.
I nod. “I’m happy.”
His eyes hold mine. “Good.”
Then, because he can’t help himself, his mouth tilts.
“And tonight,” he adds, “you’re not getting away.”
I roll my eyes, but my body reacts anyway.
“Ethan.”
He kisses my temple. “Lila.”
Sofia makes a tiny satisfied noise, like she approves of our nonsense.
I glance down at her, then back up at him, and I feel it, the strange, steady peace of this life we built out of chaos.
“Fine,” I whisper. “But you’re doing the bedtime routine.”
His eyes sharpen, amused. “That’s a trap.”
“It’s a boundary,” I say, because I’m not above using his own language against him.
He nods once. “I can handle it.”
My phone buzzes one more time.
I open it.
Ethan: I handle everything.
I stare at the message, then look up at him with my eyebrows raised.
He looks innocent.
He looks like a liar.
I type back.
Me: Prove it, Mr. CEO.
Ethan’s gaze drops to my mouth, then to my eyes.
He shifts Sofia in his arms, safe and steady, and his voice is quiet when he says, “I will.”
Sofia yawns.
Ethan rocks her again, and she settles.
And I stand there in our kitchen, three months into motherhood, still in stained leggings, still healing in places nobody sees, and I realize I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.
