Doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the stunning open-concept living room of Cole's penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the golden light of the sunset over the evening New York sky, casting long shadows across the smooth hardwood floors.
Alice slipped inside carefully, clutching her tote bag as if it were a life raft.
Standing awkwardly in the doorway of the living room, hands clasped in front of her.
"This house is… wow," she drew a breath.
Cole smiled humbly, dropping his keys into a ceramic bowl beside a marble-topped console. "It's just a house.".
House. Alice's gaze strayed from the black leather sofa to the bookshelf full of photos, books, and pieces of framed artwork suspiciously resembling finger art. Despite the opulent furnishings, there were whispers of life. Of love. Of a little girl who left glittery fingerprints and sticky smudges behind.
"Are you sure it's okay for me to stay for dinner?" she asked. "Family Day ended hours ago."
Cole, standing at the kitchen counter in a Versace shirt that was cruelly working impossibly with her pulse, glanced over his shoulder.
"You survived glitter crafts and a marshmallow tower fall already. At least I can offer supper. No pretending, no strings. Just… thank you."
Alice hesitated. A part of her warned that she was treading dangerous territory. This wasn't in the script. She was to lip a farewell kiss after the school event and disappear into the city like a compliant temp-for-hire.
But Sophie had begged her to come up. Her big brown eyes had danced with excitement as she took Alice's hand. And Alice couldn't say no. Not to her. Not even when every fibre of her screamed that she was encroaching too far into somebody else's place.
And Cole had asked, softly.
So she stayed on.
"I hope pasta is okay," Cole said, "It's the one thing I don't mess up."
"Pasta's perfect," said Alice, sitting down on a stool next to the counter.
"So," Alice went on to watch Cole sautéing sauce on the stovetop, "why did you think I was a sure thing for pretend mothering?"
He smiled gently. "You weren't afraid of Sophie. You listened to her when she spoke. And you looked at her as if she mattered."
Alice's heart hurt. "Of course she matters."
"You'd be surprised at how many people don't behave like she does," he said, not glancing up. "Especially the woman who birthed her."
There was no venom in his tone, only subdued sadness. And that stung more.
Alice breathed. "Do you always invite strangers into your house after bribing them with cake and kindergarten visits?"
Cole smiled and turned off the burner. "Only the ones who put smiles on my daughter's face."
He put the pasta out. Simple, with herbs and garlic with roast chicken; comfort food. She had no idea how starving she was until the smell hit her.
Cole put two plates on the table and turned to her, seriously. "That's why I need to thank you.".
He meant it. She could see that. And the sincerity in his eyes made something warm flicker in her chest. She took a seat.
Sophie bounced in a few minutes later, wearing pink pajamas and a unicorn headband. "Alice! I'm ready for our slumber party!"
Cole froze. "Sophie?!"
"It's okay," Alice laughed, playing along. "Slumber party's just code for dinner and a bedtime story, right?"
Sophie nodded enthusiastically.
Sophie chattered a mile a minute during dinner, telling of her very best friend Savannah, her favorite book, and that today was the best day of her life.
Chattering happily of how her painting of a Unicorn had gotten second place and how Mrs. Fuller had said her "family picture" was the sweetest of the day.
"She told me I was smiling," Sophie kept eating as she talked. "And that's because I had both my parents with me."
Cole shifted slightly, his gaze darting to Alice with an unreadable expression.
"I know we're just pretending," Sophie continued, her face growing rosy. "But it feels real."
Alice put her hand over the top of hers. "That's the most beautiful thing about make-believe, sweetie. Sometimes it helps us touch things we didn't know we were missing."
The room went quiet. Not awkward. Just… thoughtful.
"Thank you, Daddy"
"You are welcome, Pumpkin"
Cole watched Alice and Sophie interact, like he was trying to memorize the moment. Soaking it all in.
It terrified him.
Because for the first time in years, his house felt like a home.
And the woman who had agreed to fake a family for his daughter was starting to feel far too real.
After dinner, Alice helped Cole clear the table. Sophie asked Alice to help her get into bed and read her a bedtime story.
The gentle clinking of dishes and the sound of water running were oddly soothing. Cole caught himself humming.
In the hallway, he heard Sophie's giggling.
A moment later, Alice returned, bare feet, carrying a half-folded unicorn blanket in her hand. "She fell asleep in the middle of a sentence."
Cole smiled. "Must've been my amazing dinner."
He leaned against the doorway, folded arms.
"Thanks for today."
"You just said that."
"I mean it."
"You're welcome. I didn't know how much I'd like it."
"Like being a pretend mom?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Enjoyed being a part of something that matters."
The silence between them altered, no longer comfortable. Tense. Heavy with something neither of them wished to admit.
Cole stepped closer. Not touching her, but close enough that she could sense his warmth. His cologne, clean and low, and the masculinity that wrapped around her like an invisible pull.
"I told myself it was a one-time thing," he said. "But then Sophie asked if you'd go to her school picnic next Saturday."
Alice's heart was racing. "Cole…"
"I know it's not fair. I know I'm asking a lot. But she smiles when you're near. And."
He stood still, contemplating.
And Alice saw it. The war behind his eyes. The man who stitches people up for a living but didn't know how to mend the cracks in his own heart.
She didn't move. Spoke not a word.
Because she was feeling it too.
That hot danger. That still pulls.
He stepped back, breaking the magic. "Forget I said it. I told you, no strings."
She regarded him, discovering the man who had staked his pride on his daughter's happiness.
"I'll attend the picnic," she offered softly. "No pretending necessary. I just… like her company."
His eyes lingered on hers. A flare of appreciation and something more passed through them.
"Thanks," he said. His voice is deep.
And then he smiled.
Not the cute one she'd seen at the hospital. Not the pleasant one he wore for co-workers. But a real smile. One that constricted her chest.
"Goodnight, Alice."
"Goodnight, Cole."
She flung open the door and departed, walking out into the cold evening air. As she walked to her car, the city lights sparkling in puddles at her feet, Alice knew something that took her breath away.
She wasn't pretending anymore either.