Page 59 of Tinsel in Telluride

I can’t look away—dumbfounded by what the hell this small gesture means.

Of course, Bash has to go and ruin it.

“Anytime, Baby Momma.”

Leigh breaks our connection, shaking her head at the nickname she’s never going to live down.

“Speaking of babies, it looks like mine is officially done.”

All four of us swing our gaze to look at where Zack has curled up under the tree, cuddling his stuffed horse and a pile of ornaments like they are his precious treasures.

“I should get him to bed.” Leigh swings her legs out and sets her mug on the coffee table.

“Let me,” I offer.

She opens her mouth to protest but stops herself. Pressing her lips together to hold back whatever smart comment tips her tongue, she nods.

I carefully scoop up the sleeping toddler, loving the way he snuggles into my chest. He's adorable when he’s awake, but sleeping in my arms, he’s damn near angelic.

Leigh follows as I head out of the living room. Instead of turning toward the door that leads to the guesthouse, I head deeper into the house.

“Where are you going?” Leigh whispers.

“If you don’t mind, we have an extra room. That way, we don’t have to take him out in the cold, and you can hang out for a bit longer.”

I fully expect her to say no. But I wanted her to know this isn’t just about Zach. Not anymore. If I’m honest, it never was. As much as I want him here, I want her here too.

Her nose wrinkles, and she contemplates my offer.

When we get to the room across the hall from my own, I motion for her to open the door for me.

Leigh’s jaw drops when she walks in. Four bunk beds with full-size bottom mattresses line the two walls, and a crib that has been converted to a toddler bed sits below the window.

She follows as I tuck Zach into the small bed and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. I freeze mid kiss, realizing this isn’t something I’ve done until now. It just felt right.

Of course, now I’m second-guessing if it was the right thing to do in front of Leigh.

When I turn around, she’s staring inquisitively and chewing her lip like she’s holding back from saying something.

I nod toward the door so we don’t wake up Zach. Once we get into the hallway, she leans against the wall and looks up expectantly.

“This was here the whole time?” she whispers, nodding back toward the closed door.

“You wanted your own space,” I start, pleading my case. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated or like I manipulated you into staying in the main house after I?—”

“Basically blackmailed me into being here, even though you had all the work already done?”

Fuck. I let out an exasperated breath and run a frustrated hand through my hair. “Yeah, that.”

I wait for her to continue berating me, ready to take whatever it is she gives, but instead, her voice softens and a weak, “Thank you” slides out.

I do a double take, blinking slowly to make sure I heard her right.

It’s the second time she’s thanked me tonight.

And God, the things it’s doing to me.

Having her thanks is a form of praise I didn’t know I needed.

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