“I’m home,” Gavin said dumbly, his mouth suddenly dry.

She met his gaze over her laptop. “OK.”

“What are you doing?” He nodded at the computer.

“Emailing your mom about what the girls want for Christmas.”

“Right.” Seeing how he mauled her last night, it was ridiculous how nervous he was to ask if he could kiss her now. But this was different. He wasn’t sure why. It just was.

Thea finally let out a long breath and turned her attention back to her computer. Fuck it. Gavin surged forward. The sound of his feet on the carpet brought her eyes back up in what he would pretend was anticipation but was probably more likely surprise.

He waited for Thea to say something, do something. Waited for her to make the first move, to lift her face or reach for him. He begged her silently, with his eyes and his quickened breath, to do it. Because even though it was one of his conditions, it had to be her choice. He wasn’t going to force it on her.

Her nostrils flared slightly, and he could swear that her body swayed just a touch toward his. Her tongue darted out from between her plump lips and licked the bottom one. His gut clenched in response.

“Good night,” he said gruffly. And before he could talk himself out of it, he bent and brushed his lips lightly across hers.

There. Give him a gold fucking star. He’d kissed his wife.

Thea looked up at him with wide eyes. “Good night,” she murmured.

“Want me to tuck you in, or is that something you can handle yourself too?”

Thea’s eyes narrowed for a split second until she realized he was attempting to tease her. She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched at the corners. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her again and see if he could coax another moan out of her like last night.

But he’d made this bed.

It was his own fault he didn’t get to lie in it.

He settled into the guest room, cracked open his book, and hoped Lord Know-It-All had some wisdom for fixing the mess he’d made.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The puke-opalypse was over.

The girls woke up squirrely, hungry, and begging for pancakes. Thea woke up tense, hot, and hungry for something else. Her dreams had been vivid.

Thea tugged on a pair of leggings and followed the girls downstairs. Gavin’s door was shut, so he was either still asleep or—

Or he was already awake, showered, and making coffee when she entered the kitchen. Wow. OK.

“Daddy!” Amelia raced toward him and threw her arms around his legs.

“Morning, baby girl,” he said, resting a hand on her head. “You all better this morning?”

“I want pancakes,” she said.

“I’m sure we can make that happen.” He looked at Ava. “You want pancakes, squirt?” She nodded and hugged her duck.

Gavin looked over his shoulder and met Thea’s gaze. He lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile, an apology emanating from his eyes. “Morning,” he said. “Coffee?”

“Um, sure.” She shuffled forward and sat at one of the barstools. A moment later he set a steaming mug in front of her.

“Want me to make the pancakes?” he asked.

“I can do it.” She raised the mug to her lips. He’d doctored it perfectly with vanilla creamer and sugar.

“I know you can,” he said calmly. “But I’m asking if you’d like a day off from it for a change.”

It was a truce. A pancake peace offering. It would be petty to keep arguing, and even though petty was her favorite mood these days, she relented. “OK. Thank you.”

Gavin smiled as if she’d just agreed to let him move back into the bedroom.

“Where’s Liv?” Thea asked as she stood.

“Basement, I guess. Haven’t seen her.”

Thea changed direction and walked to the basement door. She opened it and listened but heard nothing. She crept down the stairs, rounded the corner, and nearly burst out laughing. Liv lay prostrate across the bed, still fully clothed. Her hair spread around her head in a violent swirl.

She started to tiptoe away.

“I’m awake,” Liv muttered.

Thea turned around. “Sorry.”

Liv groaned and rolled onto her back.

“Bad night?”

“People who go to restaurants on Thanksgiving are the worst people in the world. I never want to make another pumpkin pie in my life.”

Thea leaned against the wall and sipped her coffee. “What time did you get home?”

“What time is it now?” Liv yawned.

“Eight.”

“Then four hours ago.”

Thea choked. “You worked until four?”

“I hate my life.”

“No, you don’t. You hate your job.”

“I worked until four in the morning on Thanksgiving. My job is my life.”

Thea walked back upstairs. The sight that greeted her in the kitchen stole her breath. The girls sat on barstools on their knees so they could reach the mixing bowls. Each awkwardly stirred batter with child-sized whisks that had been a gift from Liv. Gavin stood between them, an arm around each, hovering in case one of them tipped over or started to spill something. With murmurs of encouragement, he waited patiently as they worked the whisks through the thick batter. Every few moments, one of them would look up for approval, and Gavin gave it with gentle smiles and kisses on their heads.

Her heart shifted sideways. Even when her parents were married, her father never did things like this with her and Liv. He didn’t travel like Gavin, but he was far more absent in their lives than Gavin ever was in Ava’s and Amelia’s. By the time her father finally left for good, Thea couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d been gone all their lives in the way that mattered most.

Gavin looked up and caught her gaze. She tried to rein in her expression, but she wasn’t quick enough. Gavin’s eyebrows pulled together. She forced a smile and a breezy tone. For the girls’ sake. Not his. “Looks good, girls.”

Amelia did a little shimmy in her chair and lifted her whisk. “I’m done, Daddy.” Batter dribbled onto her hands and the counter. Gavin wiped both and asked Ava if she was ready too.

Ava shook her head. Her batter needed to be perfect. “I’ll help her finish if you want to start cooking,” Thea offered.

They worked in quiet tandem for the next ten minutes. Gavin flipped pancakes as Thea got out the syrup, whipped cream, and chocolate chips. She cleaned off the counter and set plates in front of the girls’ chairs. After getting the girls settled with their food, Gavin fixed a plate for Thea and himself. They ate standing up on opposite sides of the island, each hovering in case they needed to save either of the girls from getting syrup in their hair. Neither spoke as they ate, except to the kids.

Gavin swallowed a last huge bite of pancakes and leaned back against the other counter. “So, I was thinking.”

Thea looked up. Gavin bit his lip, as if afraid to finish his thought.

“Since the girls are feeling better, I was thinking of taking them downtown to do a little Christmas shopping this afternoon. You could kick back here, maybe dig out your paints or just relax?”

The girls both perked up at the word Christmas. Or maybe shopping. Both were powerful words to them.

“What do you think?”

“Can we, Mommy?” Amelia asked, smearing syrup across her cheek.

Thea could hardly say no. Her entire game plan revolved around keeping her distance from him, and what better way than for him to leave the house? But the Christmas festival was the kind of thing they did together as a family before. It was hypocritical of her to be hurt that she wasn’t included in his plans. This is what it would be like from now on. She needed to get used to it as much as the girls.

“Sure, sounds great,” she finally answered. “I’ll get some more work done on the wall while you’re gone.”

She poured another cup of coffee and carried it upstairs to change. A few minutes later, Gavin walked in. He had her cell phone. “Dan just tried to call you.”

Her father. Thea set the phone on the dresser. It was way too early to even think about him.

Gavin hovered in the doorway. “Wh-what do you think he wants?”

“I haven’t RSVP’d for the wedding yet.”

“Are you . . . are you OK about him getting married? I mean, are you upset?” he asked.

Thea knitted her brow. Where was this coming from? “I don’t really think about it,” she admitted.

“Do you want me to deal with him?”

“Deal with him?”

“If you don’t want to talk to him, I can answer the next time he calls. Or I can just call him myself and tell him to back off. Do you want me to?”

Her heart shifted in her chest with an unidentifiable emotion. She tried to picture Gavin dealing with her father in any way whatsoever. He’d met Dan in person exactly once—a few months after the twins were born and Dan stopped on his way through to a business retreat of some kind. And as far as Thea knew, Gavin had only spoken to her father on the phone a handful of times since then. Yet the thought of not having to deal with her father, of not having to call and let him know she wouldn’t be at the wedding, was hot fudge sundae–level tempting.

“No, thanks,” she said. “I’ll talk to him eventually.”

Gavin nodded. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“OK,” she said slowly. “Thanks.”

After Gavin and the girls left, Thea decided to take out her confusing emotions on the wall. The banging and crashing brought Liv up from the basement like a zombie in search of brains.

“Coffee,” she grunted.

Thea pointed at the pot. “You might need to heat it up.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Gavin took the girls downtown for some shopping.”

“How long are they going to be gone?”

“Not sure. Why?”

“You and I should go get pedicures or a massage or something,” Liv said, stifling a yawn.