First Came Baby. Kris Fletcher

was good—except he slept through the alarm.

      Which was also good—until he woke up and heard Kate singing.

      “Que huevon,” he said as he threw back the covers. Yeah. He definitely wasn’t acclimated if he was still relying on Peruvian slang to call himself a lazy ass.

      Half an hour later, showered and dressed, he made it downstairs only to find Kate eating toast at the computer. Jamie lay tummy-down on a blanket by her side, staring at the stuffed alpaca Boone had brought for him. Jamie made a sound, and Kate stretched out one enticingly bare foot and tapped his back with her toes.

      “Coffee’s ready,” she sang out without looking up.

      “All this and coffee, too?” Boone let out a low whistle. “God, you’re amazing.”

      He knew he shouldn’t have said it as soon as the words slipped out. It was the kind of thing he would have said last year.

      Did he still mean it? More than ever. But now he couldn’t think of a single way it could sound anything but wrong.

      Kate stopped chewing for a second, stopped tapping on the keyboard.

      Then, with a deep breath, she turned to him with a smile.

      “Yep, that’s me. Kate Hebert, semisingle mom, day care director, able to push those buttons and start that coffee like nobody’s business.”

      Retreat seemed the best option.

      He took his time doctoring his cup, giving them both a few minutes to find their equilibrium before he tried again, sitting in the rocking chair and focusing on Jamie.

      “Morning, squirt.”

      Jaime squealed and waved his arms in a swimming motion. Boone risked a glance at Kate.

      “Is this how Michael Phelps started?”

      “That, I can’t answer. But it’s good that he’s doing that. It helps with his bilateral coordination. Also, God help me, it’s a precursor to crawling.”

      “Of course. I knew that.” He bent down and mock whispered in Jamie’s direction. “Here’s a hint, kid. Don’t give your mother an opening before you’re really awake.”

      Kate huffed and hit the keyboard a bit harder.

      “Do you need the car this morning? I should run to the hardware store.” And the bank, but he wasn’t going to mention that.

      “Be my guest.” She leaned closer to the computer monitor, peering so intently that Boone wondered if the prime minister had been photographed shirtless in public again. “I need some things, too. You can be my lackey.”

      He mock bowed in his chair. “Your wish is my command.”

      Too late, he remembered another time he had said that. In a very different location. With a lot fewer clothes.

      Would he ever learn?

      “Here.” She grabbed a paper from the printer, made a couple of marks on it with a pen, then handed the printout to him. “You’re going to need this. Not today, but, soon. Ish.”

      He read over the list of names and addresses, first in confusion, then with the sense of inevitability he hadn’t felt since he was a kid.

      “Divorce lawyers?” It shouldn’t have been so hard to ask. He’d known this was coming. Hell, he had been the one who’d followed “You know, we could get married” with an almost-immediate “Temporarily, of course.”

      With a start he realized his hand had gone to his throat, searching for the fake rabbit’s foot he used to wear when he was a kid. Good God. He hadn’t thought about that in years.

      She cleared her throat. “Yes. Right.”

      Sure. That was why he was here.

      “I... Look, of course you’ll want to choose your own lawyer, but I thought it might be easier if I pulled together some names for you. A starting point, since I know who is most convenient.”

      He ran a finger down the list, lingering over the names she’d starred, buying time. “It’s not like either of us is fighting this.” At least, not legally. “I don’t see why we need to pay two lawyers when we’re in agreement already.”

      “Conflict of interest. Legal ethics.”

      “Lawyers have ethics?”

      Her head snapped up. For the first time since he walked in, she smiled.

      “Crazy as it might seem, it’s true.”

      She had what appeared to be a death grip on her pen. If it had been a pencil, he would have expected it to snap in half by now. He wanted to walk across the room, place his hand over hers and give it a squeeze. Remind her that they were in this together, the way they had been all along.

      Well, as much as possible.

      But the rules were clear. No physical contact. Maybe someday they could reach the point when a squeeze of a hand or a tap on the shoulder would be seen as no more than a gesture of support, but right now, there was too much else floating between them to risk it.

      “We’ve done the hardest part already,” she said softly. “Figuring out support and custody. I mean, we’ll each need the legal eagles to give it their pricey approval, but as long as we’re in agreement, it should be smooth sailing.” She hesitated. “Unless, of course, you want to make any changes.”

      “No. I’m good. Kate, we both know that there won’t be any every-other-weekend thing with us. Jamie’s life will be here, with you.”

      She pulled the pen in close to her chest. It was almost like she was guarding it. Or cradling it?

      Her actions perplexed him. Shouldn’t she be happy about this? He knew all too well how it felt to be traded from home to home. That wasn’t what he wanted for Jamie. He had no intention of swooping in like the Big Bad Wolf and disrupting their lives.

      And yet Kate maintained her death grip on the pen.

      “Is that a problem?”

      She said nothing. Which worried him more than anything she could have said, because he had never known Kate to be at a loss for words.

      “Hmm? Oh, no. No. I just thought... I mean, I want him here with me. Obviously. But I don’t want him to miss out.” She took a deep breath. “It’s fine.”

      Boone might not be a family man, but that didn’t mean he was clueless when it came to family dynamics. On the contrary. He had learned fast and early how to read a situation and know when someone was telling the truth and when they were lying through their teeth—or through a smile. He didn’t always know what to do about it, but he could tell when there was a problem.

      And right now, every instinct he had was telling him Kate was most certainly not fine.

      I don’t want him to miss out.

      “Kate.” Again, he stopped himself from reaching for her hand. “If we want any chance of making this work, we have to be honest. Even when we think the other person won’t like what we have to say.” He spread his palms wide open. “Cards on the table, okay?”

      She stared at his hands. Silently. Like she was weighing her options. Which surprised him, because it all seemed pretty straightforward to him.

      Then she said in a rush, “I want him to know that you want him.”

      Her words sent him rocking back in his chair. Or was it the way she’d said it—low and desperate, like she wasn’t sure she had the right to ask but needed to anyway?

      Did she think he didn’t love his son?

      “Kate.” The hell with restrictions. He left the chair to kneel in front of her, tipping her chin up with one finger, steeling himself against the flood of remembered pleasure at the brief brush