My parents looked far too pleased with themselves after hearing from Siena how Cove, Ashley, and I had been reintroduced upon arriving. What did they expect to happen? That Cove would ask me out again after thirteen years? What if he was still married?

Before I could stop myself, I glanced at Cove's left hand. There was a faint mark where his wedding band must have been. Pssh! That didn't mean anything—married couples separated all the time. Even more common were divorced men looking to enjoy their newfound freedom without strings attached. I'd always felt a twisted sense of pride that I'd reached that mindset without all the marriage drama. I was a free man and didn't want to be tied down.

Before I could react further to my thoughts about Cove and his left hand, a tug on one of my boots drew my attention down. Ashley was meticulously tying and tightening the laces.

"There! Now you won't trip, mister bigger-me!" she announced proudly.

"Did you just call me 'bigger-me?'"

"Your name's Ash, ain't it?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm Ash, too," she explained. "Daddy calls me Ashy, though."

"That's rather mean of him," I ended up muttering aloud without thinking.

"Mean? Why?"

I pulled out my phone and typed something in a search bar before showing the screen to the child. "The definition of 'ashy' is—"

"Of a pale gray…ish color; ashen." Ashley read aloud at a slow pace.

My eyes widened. Hadn't Siena said she was only four? Could she really read that well already? Her way of speaking seemed more advanced than most kids her age. Then again, she was a girl—sometimes little girls just picked things up faster than boys.

"But, I am gray! See? My eyes," she insisted as she pointed at them.

"I disagree," I countered. "To me, your eyes are far cooler than that. Silver, just like your dad's."

The little girl looked at me in a strange manner before promptly clambering onto my lap. I was stunned. As far back as I could remember, if I wasn't the one lifting them up and sitting them there, neither of my nieces or nephews actively sought out my lap.

"I like you," she declared, her voice bright and innocent.

"Not as much as I do," I heard Cove's voice chime in, and a blush rose to my cheeks in embarrassment. His voice was both familiar and different at the same time. I didn't even know if such a thing was possible, but in my head, it just was.

"That's not very funny," I responded, trying to regain my composure.

"Neither of us were joking," Cove affirmed, placing a hand gently on his daughter's head. "Isn't that right, Ashy?"

"Right!" she parroted, her enthusiasm infectious.

As Cove continued to talk with his daughter, I realized I hadn't allowed myself to openly observe him. I'd only caught a glimpse earlier outside, which already felt risky. But when I suddenly felt a large hand cup the side of my face, my first instinct was to slap it away. Somehow, I managed to control that reaction.

Getting a clearer look at the man in front of me, I felt a completely different reaction. Couldn't he have gotten uglier with age, or at least put on a few pounds? How did a dad find time to get more muscular? I hadn't been wrong about Ashley inheriting her father's eyes. Cove's hair was a deeper black than his daughter's brownish-black, but they both had the same thick, wavy texture. The main difference was their skin: Ashley's mocha complexion was flawless and even, while Cove's fair skin was dotted with flat moles. He looked better at almost forty than he had at twenty-five.

His five o'clock shadow and all.

"Why don't we have Siena keep an eye on Ashy while the two of us have a talk in private?" Cove suggested.

Who was this guy, and what had he done with the twenty-five-year-old Cove I used to know? The younger Cove would have dragged me off somewhere without asking. When did he get so calm and reasonable? Having a kid must really change a man.

My sister swooped in to lift the little girl into her arms, clearly having paid more attention to both of them than I had. As I followed Cove toward a room that once belonged to me (now a guest room), I couldn't help but wonder—was it impressive that he remembered where it was, or was it concerning?

"Listen," I began, trying to get the upper hand in the conversation before it even started. "Just forget whatever it is my parents told you. I'm not—"

Kissing me impulsively was definitely something Cove would have done in the past, but I was still surprised by the action. The man wasn't a bad kisser; I knew that from experience. But I had never felt so disoriented by one of his kisses before. My body immediately began to heat up in response to the way his tongue danced in my mouth.

I had to do something... how did someone hit the brakes on a kiss again? If it wasn't logically and physically impossible, I'd have worried I'd become pregnant from such a searing kiss alone.

I had already abandoned the rational idea of stopping our make-out session when Cove himself decided to slow everything down to a halt. Right. That's exactly what I wanted to do in the first place. But why? I couldn't think properly enough to remember.

"Ash," Cove pleaded. "Can we please start over? Won't you give me another chance?"

Those words sounded so wrong in my ears that they snapped me out of whatever daze I was in. Another chance? No, it should have been the other way around. If anyone should be asking for a second chance, it should have been me.

"Cove," I admitted. "Buddy, I'm going to have to get back to you on that."