I should correct her. Should explain that Nora's the nanny, that we're not actually a family in the way she thinks.
"That would be great," I hear myself say instead.
Nora's giving me a look I can't quite read, but she doesn't correct the woman either. We position ourselves so that I’m sitting on a hay bale with Harper on my lap, and Nora is standing behind us with her hand on my shoulder. Close.Intimate. Like we do this all the time.
The woman takes several photos, cooing about how beautiful our daughter is and how perfect we look together. She hands my phone back with a smile. "You're a lovely family."
"Thank you," Nora says quietly, and the woman walks away before either of us can process what just happened.
I look at the photos. We do look like a family. A real one. Harper's grinning at the camera; I'm looking at Harper with obvious adoration, and Nora's hand on my shoulder looks natural. Right.
Like this is exactly where we all belong.
"Tyler." Nora's voice is soft. "We should probably?—"
"Pick out more pumpkins?" I stand up quickly, Harper against my chest. "Yeah. Let's find the big ones."
We spend another hour wandering the patch. Harper starts getting fussy from all the stimulation: the crowds, the noise, and the new environment. Nora takes her from me without me even having to ask. Within two minutes, Harper's calm again, tucked against Nora's shoulder with her little fist curled into Nora's jacket.
I watch them together, Nora humming something soft while she rocks Harper gently, and something in me unspools so fast I have to look away.
She's so good with her. So patient and competent and loving, in a way that makes it impossible not to fall for?—
No. Not going there.
Not yet.
We end up at the checkout stand with six pumpkins of varying sizes, and the guy who helps us load them into a cart raises his eyebrows. "Someone's ambitious with the decorating."
"It's our first fall in the house," I say, which is technically true. "I want to do it right."
Nora's examining pumpkins, and I move to help her when she tries to lift one of the larger ones. My hands settle on her waist, steadying her, and she makes this small sound that goes straight through me.
"I've got it," she says, but she doesn't pull away immediately.
We're standing too close. My hands still on her hips, her back pressed against my chest, both of us pretending this is normal while everything between us feels charged and dangerous and inevitable.
"Tyler." My name in her voice is basically a prayer.
"I know." I force myself to step back. "Let's get this stuff home."
The drive back is quiet, Harper asleep in her car seat, the trunk full of pumpkins and cider. Nora's looking out the window, and I wonder if she's thinking about the same thing I am—how easy it was to play family today, how natural it felt, and how much I want it to be real.
At home, we unload everything onto the front porch. Harper's still sleeping, so we leave her in the carrier and start arranging pumpkins. Nora's got opinions about placement and symmetry, and I just go along with whatever she suggests because watching her take this seriously is adorable.
"We need to carve at least two," she announces once we've arranged them. "It's not fall without jack-o'-lanterns."
"I'm terrible at carving pumpkins."
"I'll help you."
We spread newspapers on the porch, grab two medium pumpkins, and get to work. Nora's actually looks good, whereas mine looks like a drunk toddler carved it.
"That's supposed to be a smile?" Nora's trying not to laugh.
“It’s… something.”
"It's definitelysomething."