Standing beside me, Gracie seemed to sense the shift as well.

She shot me an uncertain look, and our eyes locked for a moment.

I looked away first in an attempt to keep myself from saying something I'd regret, like, tell Gracie how pretty she looked right now.

I needed to keep things friendly between us.

I suddenly remembered that Ratatouille was one of Gracie's favorite movies.

I drawled, "So..."

Gracie echoed, "So..."

Glancing every which way around the living room except in her direction, I asked jokingly, "What do you usually do after Stevie goes to sleep? Bust out the wine? Party all night with Remy?"

She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow. "Remy?"

"You know," I prompted, "the French mouse that cooks."

Understanding dawned on her.

With a long-suffering eye roll, Gracie chuckled, "Oh, I wish! I usually use this time to catch up on some work. Maybe watch a little Netflix. But I pass out in ten minutes."

Smiling, I snuck a peek at her. "Oh, yeah? No more all night Pixar marathons for you?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you remember how much I love Pixar..."

"I have a good memory," I commented mildly.

"Well, Stevie's the only one who gets to party all night now," Gracie remarked with a wry grin, "until I get her bottle. Then, she passes out from her milk coma."

"Man," I laughed, "life really changes after kids, huh?"

She lamented, "Ugh, it really does, I'm an even bigger homebody now than before. I've become boring as hell."

I assured her, "I don't find you boring at all."

Gracie blushed prettily. "Whatever."

"I'm being honest," I insisted, "you're amazing with Stevie. Thank you for taking such good care of her while I was gone."

Gracie fell quiet.

The mood between us shifted yet again.

When she spoke again, her tone floated out soft and somber, "Do you think... Lydia... would approve?"

My eyes widened with surprise.

This was the first time Gracie voluntarily brought up Lydia since her death. I had attempted to talk to Gracie about her sister over the past few months, but she always shot me down.

God.

Lydia.

A sharp pang rang in my chest. Grief cut into me. It was soon followed by remorse.

The atmosphere around us dimmed.

With some difficulty, I attempted to find my voice.

"I can't speak for your sister," I finally answered, "all I know is what I see—Stevie is healthy, happy, and loved, and I think you have everything to do with it."

Her brown eyes brimmed with emotion.

In a shaky breath, she replied, "Thanks... Gray. That actually means a lot to me."

"Anytime."

"I try to focus on doing my best for Stevie," Gracie confessed, "and not think about Lydia too much, but I always worry that I'm not... good... enough."

I knew Gracie well enough to understand her thought process. I could even fill in the blanks for her—I worry because I'm not her real mom—and the anguish in what she left unsaid l made my heart hurt.

Lydia was gone forever.

Stevie would never get to know her real mom.

Between Gracie and me, the two of us would have to be enough for Stevie.

I didn't dare speak for myself, but—

In thick tones, I responded, "Trust me... you're more than enough."

With a wounded look, she blinked away her tears. Immediately, my muscles tensed, and I had to fight the urge to run to her side. To hug her. To comfort her.

I barely held myself in check.

A second later, though, Gracie's composure appeared to recover on its own. She chose not to mention anything else about Lydia, and I didn't press her. I kept my gaze on her, though, studying her with care.

Kind of abruptly, Gracie changed the subject, "It's getting late. I'll help you set up the pullout couch."

"Let's do it," I replied readily.

With this, a sense of normalcy crept back, chasing away painful memories and hard conversations. I decided not to resist it. I went with the flow.

Gracie and I worked together to rearrange the pullout couch into a full-sized bed.

Once we finished setting it up, she said in a somewhat distracted manner, "I guess... I should probably grab you a pillow and blanket."

"A pillow and blanket would be great."

"Need anything else?"

"Actually," I asked, "could I jump in the shower real quick?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course! Do you need a towel?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm good. I brought my own."

Gracie nodded. "Gotcha."

I went to grab my towel and a clean change of clothes from my duffel bag. Then, I headed to the bathroom to wash up. The Corps taught me to shower quickly. I was done in five minutes. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I spotted Gracie walking towards me with a pillow and blanket in her arms.

"Oh!" Gracie gasped when she saw me.

I was shirtless, wearing only my sweats. Not to be cocky or anything, but I knew I was in pretty good shape thanks to all the years I spent hauling 100 pounds of gear across the desert.

This was a fact that didn't seem to escape Gracie's notice.

Her gaze dragged appreciatively across my body.

Desire flared between us.

I didn't move. I didn't say a word. I simply stared back and let the woman look her fill.

Long, drawn-out seconds ticked by.

My cock twitched as though it wanted to greet her.

This time, my sweats hid nothing from her eyes.

With a loud cough, Gracie stepped forward and broke the spell. Her face was slightly pink, though, when she handed me the pillow and blanket.

"Here. These are for you."

My fingers brushed against hers as I accepted them. A sweet, magnetic lure drew me to her. I didn't pull away even after the pillow and blanket were in my hands. She stayed put as well. Our touch lingered a few seconds longer than necessary.

I murmured, "Appreciate it, thanks."

Regrettably, my reply seemed to snap Gracie out of her stupor. Her eyes grew wide, and she quickly snatched her hands back.

"Good night, Gray," Gracie blurted out all at once.

Then, she dashed away to her bedroom before I could wish her a "good night" as well.

I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had seen her move so damn fast.

A small, amused smile crept over my face as I watched her go.

No matter how hard Gracie tried to keep me at a distance, it seemed she wasn't completely indifferent towards me, after all. It was nice to know that I still had some kind of effect on her. This knowledge gave me a bit of hope even though I knew nothing would come of it.