The dam we built between us is cracking. Hairline. Or maybe deeper. What comes after hairline? Whatever it is, it's important to note the dam hasn't burst. We're both still holding water, but heaven help me, that water is getting heavy.

Over the last two weeks since Ash's birthday, we've both been less conscious—or maybe it's more conscious? —of how we touch each other. As though him drawing me into a hug, running his palm down my arm, lacing our fingers together gave us both a weird sort of permission to loosen up around each other. Physical touch is now a thing.

A graze of a hand across a waist or the small of the back. Our shoulders brushing against each other in the kitchen as we do dishes or make dinner. Yesterday I swept some flour off his cheek. Each contact stokes the embers in me, begging me to pour gasoline on the kindling and watch my life burn down around me. As someone who has always been a rule follower, developing a massive crush on my nanny is just about the worst non-decision I've ever made. Despite my best efforts, I haven't been able to keep my feelings in check.

I want Ash Galvin so much that the idea of firing him, so I don't have to feel guilty about wanting him this badly, has crossed my mind. A terrible idea for so many reasons, but it springs up as a solution each time his fingers dance along a part of my body. God, do I ever want those fingers to dance across my body.

The doorbell rings, and I rush to answer it since Ash is upstairs changing Chloe and getting her ready for Diya. Joey followed the two of them like a third wheel.

I've spent all morning scrubbing the house from head to toe, and Ash pitched in when he wasn't trying to keep Joey or Chloe from offering too much "help". Chloe has started toddling around the house like a drunken sailor, and either Ash or I end up following her everywhere, worried she'll hurt herself.

Tomorrow my sister arrives for a visit, having broken up with her boyfriend, and I have no doubt she'll find fault with something—the house, the distance from a city, the way I've decorated.

I open the door, and Diya lets out a squeal of delight and claps her hands. "Oh, my! Did he get you a shirt? Blokes and their fantasies about women in their football kit, I tell ya." She pats my shoulder as she walks into the house.

We've become quite familiar with each other over the last few months, but I've never once mentioned my crush on Ash. We talk about all sorts of things, but rarely about Ash, and I definitely steer clear of Imogen, Chloe's mother. He made his feelings clear on that topic, and trying to get information out of his friends would be disingenuous.

"Oh, I—" I glance down at my shirt and hold it out from my body. "I bought it, actually. One for Joey and Chloe too. A new one for Ash. For Saturdays. When we watch the games together."

"I'm sure Ash didn't complain about that." She gives me a wicked grin before sauntering into the kitchen. "Is Chloe still taking bottles? I haven't watched her in forever."

"She's almost one," I say. "In two weeks? She's on solids, mostly. The bottles top her up when she's grumpy or isn't eating well."

"Your sister arrives tomorrow? Ash said he's taking her around Bedford and a few other places with the kids."

"Gwen, yeah." I can't meet Diya's gaze when she mentions Ash as tour guide.

Since I'm not able to book any vacation days right now, Ash has offered to take Gwen a few places with the kids. It was sweet of him, and I agreed to it weeks ago, but now I don't want him to. The reason makes me sound petty, but there's no conceivable way that my single sister won't try to get into Ash's pants at least once. Perhaps multiple times. He may sue me for my sister sexually harassing him. With the four-year age gap between me and Gwen, she's at least closer to his age.

"How's work going?" Diya takes a seat at the kitchen table.

"Still having some issues with one of my employees, but he's hard to pin down. Sneaky and subtle. Doesn't help that some of the people in the office don't see him as divisive but rather as someone who 'tells it like it is' as though being an asshole is a badge of honor."

"Some people like assholes. Tend to be attracted to them myself. It's why all my relationships run hot and short."

"Definitely not my thing."

"Ash looks like he'd be an asshole. If I saw him out somewhere, I'd probably shove him in that box without a second thought. A big brute. But he's like putty. Well, except when someone he loves is threatened in the slightest. When we used to go out clubbing and a guy got too aggressive on the dance floor with Imogen—"

"No need to bring her up," Ash says from the doorway, Chloe in his arms and Joey beside him.

I'm not sure how either of us missed him and the two noisy kids coming down the stairs, but I've been in my head all day about going to the match with him and my sister arriving tomorrow. Work, apart from the occasional Jack flare-up has been going okay, so it's my personal stress that's making me scattered. After months of feeling solid in this house, it's disorienting to be so worried about something that is, largely, out of my control.

Telling Gwen to stay away from Ash would put a target on him, and she might even deduce that I've caught some feelings. The fact that he's my employee would only go so far with her since she's just here for a week. Enough time to demolish my peace before jetting off again. On brand for Gwen.

Diya rises to take Chloe from Ash, who is tense in the kitchen. She doesn't apologize or make excuses for bringing up Imogen, and she's done it other times when Ash isn't around, as though daring me to pry. Although she and Tejinder are clearly Ash's closest friends, I wonder how they feel about Imogen's absence from Chloe's life. She asked me about Joey's father once, and I told her he wasn't involved. Which is true, but not exactly the entire truth.

"What time's your train?" Diya asks while placing a series of kisses on Chloe's cheek.

"Soon," Ash says, and the annoyance in his voice is still there. "You ready?" He glances at me with a coldness I'm not used to.

"All set." I grab my purse off the counter and scoop up Joey for one last cuddle before following Ash to the car.

~ * ~

On the platform for the train, the two of us are silent. Ash has been quiet since we left the house, and this morning he was practically bubbling over with excitement. One mention of Imogen, and he's completely deflated. If anything was going to tell me the guy still had some serious emotional entanglements where his ex is concerned, this is it. This should be a welcome reminder. Assholes may not be my thing, but emotionally unavailable men? Catnip. Trust me to develop a crush on my nanny who is still in love with his absent baby mamma. I roll my eyes at myself and hitch my bag higher onto my shoulder.

"Why are you annoyed?" Ash asks, and his tone is uncharacteristically brisk.

"It's going to make me sound like a jerk."

He shrugs and stares at me, waiting.

Another one of the things I like about Ash—no mood of mine phases him. As long as I'm as honest as I can be about the cause, he takes everything in stride. It's refreshing, actually, that I don't have to guard myself, especially since we live together.

"You were so happy this morning about going to this game, and one tiny mention of Imogen blew it all up. I guess I just—I don't understand."

"You're annoyed that I'm annoyed."

"You seem more than annoyed."

He lets out a huff and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched while he searches down the track for the train.

I'm pretty sure he's not going to say anything more about it when he says, "I don't want her part of this." He gestures between us. "I'm finally startin' to feel like myself."

"Do you think she'll ever come back?" It's risky to push, especially when I was just complaining that one mention of her had ruined his mood. But he's never spoken about her—not once.

"Who the fuck knows?"

"Why'd she leave?"

"Who the fuck knows times two." He scowls at me. "We done?"

"You don't want to talk about it."

"I don't know what to say. She left. I wanted Chloe." He runs his hand down his face. "I don't think she did. She never said it, but—" He shakes his head. "She left, didn't she? Says it all. Where's Joey's dad?" He asks the question almost defiantly, as though he's sensed the whole time that I wouldn't answer. The change in topic is a deflection, but I'll let him have it. I've poked his wound enough.

"Joey's father was in a database, then a test tube, and then a petri dish. I used a donor."

"Blimey. Tejinder was right." He shoves his hands into his pockets again and watches for the train.

"Seemed easier at the time."

"Hmm."

Instead of pushing him to say more, I decide to leave it alone. He's angry about the Imogen conversation. We've lived together for four and a half months, and the version of Ash on the train platform with me right now isn't one I've ever seen.

"It's not too late to call one of your friends to meet you there."

"What? No."

"I won't be offended."

"Paige, don't be daft. It doesn't suit you."

"If Maryam were here, she'd call you stroppy."

That makes him laugh. "Maryam would have a go at me, would she? You're dragging your secretary into this?" He shoots me a side glance and then lets out a sigh. "She'd be right. I don't mean to ruin your day."

The train slows coming into the platform, and I give his hand a quick squeeze. "Nothing is ruined unless we let it be."

He wraps his big arm around me, tugging me against his side, and he rests his chin on the top of my head. "No need to ruin anything."

We stand there together while the train slows, and the doors open. Neither of us moves to get on, and it feels like every inch of tension is seeping out of us, replaced by a different, but increasingly familiar, awareness.

"You alright?" he asks against the top of my head.

"Yeah."

"Me too. Shall we?" He takes my hand, the roughness of his palm welcome against the smoothness of mine, and we slip inside the doors just as the warning bell goes.

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