The scent of something delicious wafts up from the kitchen, pulling me away from the blueprints spread across the dining table. It's been three weeks since Eliot joined our chaotic little family, and I'm still getting used to coming home – or even just being upstairs working – to the smell of an actual home-cooked meal.

Parker appears beside me, her head tilted slightly as she also sniffs the air appreciatively. "Eliot's making something new," she observes.

"Yeah, smells amazing," I agree, folding up the blueprints we've been studying for our next job. "You think he'd give me cooking lessons?"

Parker just snorts. "You can barely boil water without supervision."

"Hey, that was one time! And the fire department wasn't even called!"

She grins, that rare, genuine smile that still makes my heart race even after all this time together. "Liv likes him," she says, changing the subject.

"Yeah, she does," I agree, watching as our daughter's laughter floats up the stairs. "So do we."

The words hang in the air between us, charged with something unspoken. Something we've been tiptoeing around for weeks now. Parker meets my eyes, and I can see the same conflict there that I feel in myself – the desire for something more, and the fear of ruining the delicate balance we've established.

Before either of us can say more, Eliot's voice calls up the stairs. "Dinner's almost ready!"

Parker and I exchange one more look, a silent communication passing between us. This could be the moment. Or we could continue dancing around what we both want. As we head toward the stairs, I know the decision is about to be made for us – one way or another.