BEXLEY TURNER

WARM RAYS OF THE sun shine on my face and I roll over with a dramatic groan. The sounds of footsteps running and the sound of someone laughing makes me roll over and onto a warm body next to me.

Warm body? My eyes snap open and I scoot back quickly. Brown hair and a bit of a stubble. Hayden fucking Wilson.

"Hayden, wake up!" I hiss, strands of my black hair falling in my face. In my slight panic, I manage to check if we're clothed. I look under the covers and breathe out in relief.

Clothes are on, but why the hell is my very attractive ex in my bed?

He yawns and rolls over, wrapping his muscular arms around my waist and snuggling into my stomach in the process. "Morning."

"Get up," I shove him, my eyes looking at the door and back at him. "Did we, we didn't, right?"

"Oh, yeah. You couldn't keep your hands off of me," he says and I turn to look at him, my eyes wide. Fuck. Fuck. When he gives me a teasing smile, I grab a pillow and hit him with it.

"Not funny, jackass," I glare at him, but a smile forms on my face. "Seriously though, what happened?"

"While you were telling us about our son, you got us both beers and we talked for hours. There was a snowstorm and I couldn't drive home, so you let me stay the night. Also, you insisted that I slept in the bed with you," he finishes with a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," I cringe.

"It's okay. Don't apologize, Bex," he gets out of bed and grabs his coat off of the coat rack, and walks towards the bedroom door, his blue eyes looking back at me with a familiar, soft emotion. "I should get going."

"I'll walk you to the door," I smile at him and grab a sweater before walking him to the front door.

"When will you tell Nash?" He asks as he places his hand on the doorknob, catching me completely off guard.

"Soon. Do you want to be there when I do?"

"Yes, if that's okay with you," he smiles at me, his eyes bright in the lights above us.

"If it wasn't okay, I wouldn't have asked, Hayden," I laugh, my heart beating with excitement.

"Right," he chuckles and steps closer, a light blush forming on his cheeks. Hayden looks down at me, his face close to mine. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"We shouldn't," I tell him, but want nothing more to feel his soft and familiar lips on mine. "But we will. One of these days."

"I'll hold you to that statement. See you later, gorgeous."

Hayden exits the house and I close the door behind him, locking it with a soft click. My lips form into a large smile and I breathe out, my cheeks warm with a blush. Only he could turn me into a blushing and hot mess. Only him.

❄︎

"I've missed you, darling." Nash runs to me and jumps in my arms. I kiss him on the forehead before placing him down on the tiled floor of Chrissy's kitchen.

"Mama, can I have cocoa?" He asks, his blue eyes begging me.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" I ask him and look at Chrissy, who nods at me, answering my question, before looking back at her wedding book planner with Jared.

"Mhm, Aunt Chrissy made pancakes and bacon," he answers and wraps his arms around my leg as he stares up at me.

"Then yes, you can have some hot cocoa," I ruffle his hair and shuffle over to the cupboard that the cocoa packets are stored in. "Nash, please get off of my leg."

"No, it's fun."

"Oh, yes, I'm having a blast," I mumble while pulling a hot cocoa packet out of the semi-full box of packets. My fingers grip the cool material of a mug's handle and set it on the counter. "Nash, if you don't get off of my leg, you're not getting any cocoa."

"But, mama-" He whines, his hands and legs off of my leg.

"But nothing."

After getting milk out of the fridge, I uncap it and pour some of it into two separate mugs, one for me and one for Nash. I put the mugs in the microwave for one minute and when they're done, I take them out and put the cocoa powder in them before stirring and mixing the powder, until it forms into a creamy and chocolate liquid.

"Sit at the counter, or you're not getting it," I tell Nash and he happily runs to the stools and climbs on one of them. When I take a seat next to him, I place his mug in front of him and drink my own cocoa while I watch Nash, making sure he doesn't spill it, and burn himself.

"Thank you, mama."

"You're welcome, darling," I ruffle his hair again. This kid is a spitting image of his father, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a friendly and curious personality. 

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