“Thanks,” I say quietly. “I’ll get myself sorted out and pay you back, I promise.”

Star shakes her head like I’m a child caught being naughty. “We know where you live, Tag.”

A grin tips the corners of my lips.

“So, are you going to ask Finny out on a date?” Wren asks.

“You think she’d say yes?” I wait with bated breath.

Star snorts. “Hell no.”

My heart falls.

“She’s going to say no. She’s going to say she doesn’t date. She’s going to tell you to go fuck yourself. And she might even try to kick you in the nuts.”

I cover my package and wince just thinking about it. “Maybe I won’t ask her…”

Star grins. “You won’t be able to avoid it. She’s magnetic.”

Wren’s voice is quiet when she says, “Nobody deserves a happily-ever-after more than she does.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I say. My mind is already whirring with all the ways I can get Fin to like me. And all the ways I might screw it up so she kicks me in the nuts.

The latter is much more likely.

Finch

Tag and his offspring have been here for two weeks. Two weeks of a baby crying in the night. Two weeks of overflowing trash cans and a fridge full of formula bottles. Two weeks of cuteness overload.

Okay, I admit it. The kid is cute. And Tag is pretty damn cute, too. He’s good and kind and he’s an attentive father, or at least he’s trying to be.

I hug my pillow to me tighter and pound my fist into it. The kid has been crying for a couple of minutes and Tag hasn’t picked him up.

I get up and walk into the kitchen. The sound gets louder.

I walk to his room and fling open the door. “Can you shut that thing up?”

I freeze when I see that the bedside light is on but Tag isn’t in the room. Where is he? Then I hear the shower running. Tag worked late, working for the Reeds. I heard him when he came in, and I heard him tell Wren good night. He must have gone straight to jump in the shower after.

I walk to the side of the crib and look down. Benji’s face is all red and he’s kicking his arms and feet. I lay my hand on his belly and he kicks harder, but he doesn’t stop crying. I scoop him up in my arms and cradle him tightly. Wren says babies like to be cuddled. This one doesn’t, because he just screams even louder.

I walk to the kitchen and get one of his bottles from the fridge. I warm it up really quickly, and he roots around as I stick it in his mouth, and finally latches on to it. Okay. This is kind of cool. I can feed him and then I can lay him back down.

The house is completely silent, aside from his sucking-humming noises and the sound of the fan running in the bathroom. I hear the door open, and Tag walks into the room. He skids to a stop and I have to remind myself to breathe.

He’s wearing a towel. And that’s all. The corner of the towel is knotted in his fist. His long legs are bare except for a tattoo on his lower leg, and his chest is completely exposed. Water drips from his wet hair across his chest, and I have a crazy impulse to lick it away.

Holy shit. This is bad. I look down at Benji and watch him as he greedily devours his bottle. “He was crying,” I explain.

“Did he wake you?” He runs a spare towel across his hair.

I shake my head. “I was awake.”

“I didn’t realize you were here,” he says.

“Apparently.” I finally look up at him and I let my eyes wander over his torso.

His face colors and he turns toward his room. “I should put some clothes on,” he says, his voice gruff.

“Not a bad idea,” I whisper.

He closes his bedroom door behind him, and comes back out a minute later. He’s wearing a t-shirt and some pajama pants. His feet are bare. “Do you want me to take him?” he asks. He reaches like he’s going to take Benji out of my arms. I block him by turning slightly away.

“He’s almost asleep.” I look down into his perfect little face. His mouth is slack around the bottle and I jiggle it between his lips to get him to suck. He grabs hold again and starts to drink.

“You’re pretty good at that,” he says quietly.

“Necessity is the mother of intention,” I quip.

He grins. “Isn’t it invention?”

“I know.” I smile back at him. “It’s something my dad used to do with me. He’d toss out these mis-worded quotes and sayings. He got us all doing it.”

“Your real dad?”

I nod my head. “Emilio.”

Tag looks at me quizzically.

I shrug. “He’s the only dad I’ve ever had.”

Tag nods.

“I’m going to go and visit my mom tomorrow,” I say quietly.

He rubs his hands together quickly. “Oh, a date! What time?”

“Whenever I get up.”

The bottle falls out of Benji’s mouth and I set it to the side. He’s sound asleep.

“Is he supposed to burp or something?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn’t.” He holds out his arms and I settle Benji in them. I run my hand across his hair, and I feel a sudden and overwhelming urge to bend and kiss his fat little cheek. So I do.

I lean over and hover over his baby-scented hair, breathing him in, with my eyes closed. Then I press my lips to his forehead and hold them there.

When I look up, I find Tag staring at me. Suddenly he grabs my shirt and jerks me toward him. His lips hover over mine. “Tell me not to kiss you,” he whispers, his eyes skittering across my face.