The late afternoon sun spilled through the massive glass windows of the Wolfe estate, casting long golden streaks across the living room floor. Toys were scattered around, a stuffed panda here, a pacifier under the couch, one of Luna's tiny pink socks dangling from the chandelier thanks to Zane's curious grip and strong baby arms.
Talia stood in the middle of it all, one hand on her hip, her sketchpad clutched in the other. She looked radiant, even in her oversized hoodie and leggings, her hair tied up in a messy bun that still somehow looked runway-worthy.
Ethan leaned casually against the doorframe, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the top buttons of his shirt undone, watching her with quiet amusement.
"Let me guess," Talia said, not looking up. "You're watching me because you're mesmerized by my sheer brilliance as a designer?"
Ethan smirked. "That, and you've got baby food on your forehead."
Talia blinked. "What?"
