Page 122 of Sloane

I looked to see Ryan standing there.

“It’s kind of a house rule that one of the residents helps.”

He walked toward the kitchen with a cautious smile.

“Maybe you could make an exception just this once.”

I’d always liked Ryan. Even while dealing with Grace’s recovery from her car accident, he’d been kind and thoughtful when Sloane was in a coma in Germany; always making sure to call me daily even if there wasn’t any news. And he’d tried to stay in touch, but I’d blocked him and the rest of Sloane’s friends on social media once I started posting updates on my pregnancy.

“Yeah, okay,” I said returning his smile. “Just this once.”

He came around the counter and pulled me into a side hug. “It’s good to see you, Ash.”

“Good to see you, too.”

I was worried he was going to try to defend Sloane, but he didn’t, he just said, “So, what are we making?” and let me put him to work.

I asked him about Grace, and he caught me up with what was going on with them, including that she was going to be doing her residency in San Diego.

“That’s wonderful!”

“Yeah. I was worried I was going to have to move.”

“You would’ve done that?” I asked as I slid the cheesecake in the bottom oven of the double oven and set the timer.

“To be with her? Heck yes.”

One of my favorite things about Ryan was how in love he was with Grace, and how he’d never been afraid to show it.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t have to move.”

“Me too. You sure I’m not supposed to cook these noodles?” he asked as he put the final layer on the lasagna.

“Positive. We try to make simple recipes the guys can do when they’re living on their own. No-cook noodles and marinara in a jar are the easiest ingredients to use.”

“Wouldn’t a store-bought one be the easiest?”

“I’m sorry, I should have clarified. Easy and delicious.”

I nodded toward the top oven. “It’s preheated and ready.”

He put the pan in, closed the door, then leaned against the counter.

“So, tell me about your daughter.”

I felt myself smile at the thought of Millie, even if I was suspicious about why he wanted to know about her.

“She’ll be six weeks old tomorrow. She’s a good baby; she loves baths, and she just smiled her first smile yesterday.”

My description of her made the corner of his mouth turn up.

“Does she sleep through the night?”

“No, not yet. She still needs to eat about every three hours.”

“The little bit I saw of her, she’s beautiful.”

“She is.”

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