“She’s not Mom,” Flick said.

“She’s not Mama,” Addie told him. “But she’s our mom.”

The words burned into Caroline’s heart. “Addie, you’re so nice. Why are you so nice?”

The little girl shrugged her shoulders. “Guess I’m just a good person.”

“You are. Both of you are. And Blackie, too. She’s a good girl. And I feel so lucky to have you all.” Caroline hesitated, then decided this was the moment to bring up something she’d been thinking about for a long time. “You can call me Mom or Caroline or anything that makes you happy. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you two. When your mama died, I became your guardian. That means I’m responsible for giving you a home and keeping you safe. I love being your guardian. But lately I’ve been thinking . . . How would you feel if I adopted you?”

They were silent for a few moments.

“You mean the way we adopted Blackie?” asked Flick.

“Yes, like that. Nothing will change. I’ll still be responsible for you in every way. But if I adopt you, I’ll become your legal parent. I won’t ever replace your mama. No one will. But it means you’ll have a parent again, forever and ever.”

“Forever and ever until the end of time?” asked Addie.

“Yes. What do you think?”

“I think yes,” Addie said.

Flick stayed silent. His arms tightened around Caroline. He sniffed, and her shirt was warm and damp. “Okay,” he said in his raspy whisper. “Okay.”

Chapter 26

Caroline heard a car door slam and glanced at the time on her computer. Everyone had gone for the day, and she’d just called her parents to let them know she would be working late—extremely late. The proposal from Eau Sauvage was a huge opportunity. They wanted to do a pop-up rollout of her designs in a limited run, and when it caught on, it would expand from there. Prior to the scheduled meetings with the marketing team, she had to craft an irresistible presentation. This would make her preparations for the ill-fated Chrysalis line look like child’s play.

She got up from her desk, massaging a crick in her neck, and wandered outside. To her surprise, there was Will in jeans and a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled back. As always, she had to work to disguise her reaction to seeing him.

“I thought you had a date tonight,” she said.

“I did, but I bailed.”

Caroline couldn’t escape a reality she’d been running from for a long time. She still had a crush on Will Jensen. No, it was worse than that. It wasn’t a crush. It was much more, a yearning so powerful it kept her awake at night, plagued by restless cravings. It distracted her all day, filled her with equal measures of joy and guilt.

He was off-limits. Her best friend’s ex.

He probably didn’t even feel the same way about her as she felt about him. Except sometimes she thought maybe he did. Every so often she’d see him looking at her in a certain way, his eyes alight. And she’d think maybe . . .

“Why?” she asked.

“What’s that?” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

Oh, God. She even loved the way he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Why did you bail?”

He paused. Checked her out with a warm, slow, up-and-down look. She wished she were wearing something nicer than work clothes—ankle jeans and a stylized white smock she’d designed, her homemade homage to houses like Chanel, where the workers dressed in lab coats.

“Come on inside. I’ll tell you over a beer.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks. I could use a break. I already told my mom I might be pulling an all-nighter.”

“Big project?”

“The biggest. I’ll tell you over that beer. God, I hope I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew.”

He gave her a nudge, the way he used to when they were kids. “You don’t chew beer.”

She rolled her eyes and followed him into the house. Fisher greeted them with swirls of ecstasy. Since Sierra had left, Water’s Edge hadn’t really changed. She had walked away with nothing but her clothes and personal things. To Caroline, she’d explained, “It was never my house. I picked out furniture and finishes and paint colors as if my life depended on it, but really, it was just to make Will happy. To make our life look happy, I suppose. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.”

The place was still beautiful. How could it not be, given Sierra’s sense of style? Caroline noticed more of Will’s things—a framed team picture on the wall, sports gear in the mudroom.

She was struck by a curious notion. She was totally excited about her plans. And there was only one person she really wanted to tell—Will. But first—

She climbed up on one of the kitchen barstools and took a big gulp of beer. “Beer is always a good idea,” she said. “Coats my nerves with happiness. Now, you bailed on your date . . . why?”

“I realized I was wasting her time and mine. This past year, dating has just been a distraction for me.” He paused, looked at Caroline with an expression she hadn’t seen before. “Gets in the way of what I really want.”

“Which is . . . ?”

“To be with someone longer than a night or a weekend. It’s been fun, but now I’m over the just-divorced phase.”

“Now, that,” she said, “is going to break a lot of hearts on the Long Beach Peninsula.”

“Nah.”

“You say. I’ve been watching, Will. Women love you. Everyone’s been talking about the hot young coach who’s back on the market.”

“Everyone, eh?” He chuckled. “Who are these women who love me?”

“It’s a small town. I hear stuff. So you’re going to quit dating and do what?”

“I’m going to quit dating and fall in love again.”

She was so startled to hear the words come out of his mouth that she inhaled too quickly at the exact moment she was swallowing a mouthful of beer. The result was not pretty. Choking and trying to catch her breath, she grabbed a tea towel and held it to her mouth.

“Easy,” he said, patting her on the back. “You okay?”

She nodded and waved him off, then went to the sink and washed up. “I’m fine. Got all choked up, is all.”

“Not exactly the reaction I was looking for,” he said.

What reaction were you looking for? She didn’t let herself ask. “I’ll try to finish my beer without spewing again.”

“You’re not dating, either,” he said.

“How do you know? Are you keeping track?”

“No,” he said quickly. Then, “Yes. Yeah, I have been.”

She sat down again. Took a cautious sip of her beer. Tried not to stare at his face, but couldn’t help herself. He had the lips. He had the eyes. “Why?”

Holding her gaze with his, he took the beer bottle from her hand and set it gently on the counter. “Caroline. You know damn well why.”

Caroline’s eyes flew open. She awoke with a leap of panic—a “what have I done?” swirling through her mind. No, she thought, clinging to a thread of denial. I did not do that.

I did not just sleep with Will.

A gentle, peaceful, ridiculously sweet snore came from the slumbering man next to her.

Oh my God, I did, she thought. I did just sleep with Will.

And oh my God, it was the best thing ever.

She held herself motionless. Hardly breathing. Heart hammering, threatening to give her away. Then inch by inch she edged toward the side of the bed. It was still dark, the middle of the night. She still had plausible deniability on her side. She could sneak out now, drive home, slink into her bed like a truant teenager, and pretend this night had never happened.

Except of course it had.

She’d slept with her best friend’s ex-husband.

And before sleeping with him, she’d had the best sex of her life. The kind of sex she’d been wanting ever since she knew what sex was. The kind that left her glassy-eyed, helpless, weightless, terrified, and . . . unbearably smitten.

She had no excuse. No alcohol to blame, no sexual predator who had driven her into the safe arms of a man she trusted, a man she had loved as long as life.

This was bad. This had to stop.

A large warm hand tunneled under the covers and slowly, assuredly, made its way up her bare leg. “You’re awake,” murmured a deep voice.

“How do you know? I haven’t moved a muscle.”

“I can feel you breathing.” The hand circled the top of her thigh. “I can hear you thinking.”

“Yeah? What am I thinking?”

“Same thing I am.”

One touch of his hand nearly undid her. “I’m not breathing,” she said. “I’m frozen with mortification.”

“Cool.” In one easy movement, he covered her and started nuzzling her neck. “Then I won’t have to chase you around the bed. Don’t move. I’ll do all the work.”

“I . . .”

“All. The. Work.” His lips. His tongue. His knowing hands.

She practically melted into the mattress. The large, comfy, pillow-top mattress on his bed. She was in Will Jensen’s bed. Sierra’s bed. And the things they’d done to each other . . .