Page 27 of Nolan

She shrugs, a gesture so unlike her that concern immediately flares in my chest. "My tummy feels funny."

"Do you want some pancakes? I'll make them shaped like stars, just how you like them." I keep my voice light, even as my eyes scan her for any signs of illness.

Ashlynn shakes her head. "Not hungry."

Now I'm definitely worried. Ashlynn never turns down star pancakes. I place the back of my hand against her forehead, but she doesn't feel warm. "How about some orange juice, then?"

She takes a few sips to please me, but her usual chatter is absent as we move through our morning routine. I try to engage her with her favorite books and toys, but she's listless, preferring to curl up on the couch with her bunny.

By lunchtime, my concern has deepened. Is she worried because her mom showed back up? Is this more? Ashlynn's face is pale, and she pushes away the plate of mac and cheese I've prepared, her absolute favorite.

"Nap," she says, rubbing her eyes. "I want a nap, Belle."

It's not even noon, and Ashlynn asking for a nap is as rare as a solar eclipse. I check her temperature again, placing the thermometer against her ear. 98.7, normal. But normal temperature or not, something isn't right.

I reach for my phone and type out a message to Nolan:

A: Ashlynn isn't herself today. No appetite, low energy, asking for naps. No fever, but I'm keeping a close eye on her. Just wanted to let you know.

My finger hovers over the send button for a moment. I don't want to bother him, not when I'm not sure what's going on. But Ashlynn comes first, always. I hit send.

A few minutes later, my phone pings.

N: Thanks for letting me know. Keep me updated. I'll try to wrap up early today.

The concern he always has for his daughter is one of the hottest things about him. I smile, as I look at his words. This is one thousand percent the type of man you want to be the father of your children.

"Come on, sweetie. Let's get you comfortable for your nap."

I settle on the couch with her, and she curls against me, her small body fitting perfectly in my arms. As her breathing slows and deepens, I stroke her soft curls, so like Nolan's in color and texture.

In these quiet moments, it's impossible not to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If Nolan and I stopped pretending there wasn't something brewing between us. If we gave in to the current that seems to pull us toward each other, despite our best efforts to resist.

I picture morning coffees shared over sleepy smiles, bedtime stories read together, Ashlynn between us. Weekend trips to the park, hand in hand. Sleeping against Nolan every night, the hard assurance of his body against mine.

The fantasy is so vivid that my heart aches with longing. I've tried to keep my feelings professional, to remember my role in this household. But every day, it gets harder. Especially now, after feeling his lips on mine, however briefly.

Ashlynn stirs in her sleep, her little face scrunching up before relaxing again. I adjust the blanket around her and sigh softly. For her sake, I need to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Whatever happens, or doesn't happen, between Nolan and me, she deserves stability and love.

But as I sit here, cradling his daughter, I can't help but wonder if there's a chance for us. If that kiss wasn't just amistake, but the beginning of something we've both been afraid to name.

My phone lights up with another text from Nolan:

N: Heading into a meeting. How is she doing?

Such a simple message, yet it makes my pulse quicken. I type back:

A: Sleeping now. Still no fever. Don't worry, I've got her.

N: I know you do, see you tonight.

I set my phone down and continue stroking Ashlynn's hair, my thoughts a tangled web of worry for her and longing for her father. He knows I've got his daughter, he knows I'll do anything I can for the two of them. I have to bask in it, and realize that no matter how hard we push against all of this, we're pulling together at the same time.

For now, though, I focus on the child in my arms, the rise and fall of her chest, the trust she places in me. If nothing else, I have this,the love of a little girl who's become as dear to me as if she were my own. And maybe, just maybe, that's the bridge that will ultimately connect her father and me.

As Ashlynn sleeps, I allow myself to hope, to dream of a future where the three of us are a family in more than just my imagination. Where that kiss in the kitchen isn't just a memory, but the first of many moments shared between two people who've finally stopped fighting what they feel.

I close my eyes, sinking into the couch, believing that this could one day be my real life.

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