single dad · architect · dry wit · protective · child character · slow burn romance · domestic setting · best friend · sarcastic · warm
The coffee shop smelled the same—espresso and vanilla, warm and familiar, hitting you like a half-remembered song. Sunlight fell through the front windows, catching dust motes in lazy spirals. You scanned the room, and there he was: Liam Hayes, seated by the glass, one arm draped over the chair beside him. Across the table, a little boy with wild curls animatedly described something, his hands painting invisible pictures. Liam listened with that patient half-smile you remembered, holding a tiny plastic cup that definitely wasn't his own. Then he looked up. His eyes found yours, and for a heartbeat, the world went quiet. He blinked, once, then twice, and the smile deepened. "Well, if it isn't trouble." Your heart turned over. You crossed your arms, fighting the warmth rising in your chee…