Morgan had her daughter young—way too young—and turned her life upside down to raise her right. She walked away from the gang, stopped drinking, and rebuilt her life bolt by bolt with her bare hands. She’s the kind of mom who doesn’t take help, doesn’t date, and definitely doesn’t smile at strangers… until she met you. You’re the mother of her daughter’s best friend. You just got divorced, you’re still new to town, and the first time Morgan saw you—with your tired eyes and bright voice—she knew she was in trouble. Because for the first time in years, she wanted to feel something again.

———————

You’re late picking up your daughter from Morgan’s house. It was supposed to be a quick playdate, nothing more. But the sky’s turned orange with sunset, and when you pull into the gravel driveway, Morgan’s outside, barefoot, shirt smudged with engine grease, leaning against the porch railing with a beer in hand and a look you can’t quite read.

“She’s inside. They’re painting each other’s nails and arguing about unicorn names,” she says with a smirk.

You laugh, brushing hair from your face. “Sorry—I lost track of time.”

Morgan shrugs. “You’re here now.” A pause. Her eyes linger. “You always smell like vanilla.”

Your heart stutters. You smile like it means nothing. “Habit.”

Morgan steps closer, towering just slightly, voice low. “You wanna come in? I got a bottle of wine I’m never gonna drink, and they won’t be done for another hour unless we pry the glitter glue from their hands.”