All I can think of is that she's not Nora. Her hair's the wrong color, her eyes are the wrong shade, and her smile doesn't make my chest tight the way Nora's does.
"I'm flattered," I say carefully. "But I'm not interested. Sorry."
"Oh." She pulls back, confusion crossing her face. "You're with someone?"
Am I?We haven't defined what we are; we haven't crossed any real lines beyond almost-kisses and hand-holding, and the way we look at each other is like the rest of the world doesn't exist.
But yeah. I'm with someone. Even if she doesn't know it yet.
Even if I'm still figuring out how to tell her.
"Yeah," I say. "I am."
Amber nods, disappointment clear, and retreats into the party. I watch her go and feel nothing but relief.
Liam appears at my side, grinning. "Dude. You just turned down Amber Morrison. She's literally a model."
"Good for her."
"You're so gone for your nanny, it's embarrassing." But he's laughing, not judging. "When are you gonna do something about it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." He claps my shoulder. "You should go home, man. You look miserable."
He's not wrong.
I make it until eight forty-seven before I give up pretending I want to be here. I find Danny to say goodbye, endure some chirping about leaving early, and head out to my car.
The drive home takes fifteen minutes, and I spend the entire time thinking about Nora. The way she laughs at Harper's antics. The way she hums while she's organizing things. The way she looked at me last night after the game, something soft and warm in her expression that made my heart stutter.
The way she calls me Ty now, instead of West, like I'm someone special to her.
The way I want to be someone special to her.
And that's when it hits me.
I'm pulling onto my street when the realization crashes over me like a physical blow, so sudden and overwhelming I nearly miss my driveway.
I'm in love with her.
Not falling. Not heading that direction. Already there, completely and irrevocably in love with Nora Collins.
I can't pinpoint when it happened. Maybe it was gradual, building over weeks of living together, raising Harper, and becoming this strange little family. Maybe it was that first day when she calmed Harper down within minutes, and I realized I wasn't alone anymore. Maybe it was every midnight conversation, 2 a.m. feeding, and moments of comfortable silence in between.
But I know it's true.
I’m in love with the way she organizes everything in color-coded systems and the patience she shows Harper. With the way she listens when I talk about Reaper and the team and all the shitI'm dealing with, her kindness, and the way she smiles when she thinks I'm not looking.
And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it.
I park in the driveway and sit here for a minute, my hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to process what just happened. This is terrifying, huge, and it could ruin everything if I'm not careful.
But it's also the most certain I've been about anything in my entire life.
I walk into the house at nine twenty-three, and Nora's exactly where she said she'd be—on the couch with a book, the lamp in the corner casting warm light across her face. She's wearing my Falcons hoodie again, the one that's way too big on her, and her auburn hair is falling out of its bun in a way that makes my fingers itch to touch it.
She looks up when I walk in, and her smile is warm and genuine and everything I didn't know I needed.