“Maya, you’re perfect,” I say, my voice hoarse. I lean in, pressing my face into her hair, her ear, the side of her neck. I don’t know what I’m doing, only that I need to do it, that I need to make sure she knows this. I inhale deeply, catching some of that vanilla scent, feeling the silk of her hair against my skin, against my lips. “You’re gorgeous. You have a ‘mom bod’ because…well, you’re a mom. Your arms rock Archer to sleep. Your legs carry you through the world so that you can be everywhere he needs you to be. Your softness, your curves—” I swallow. “They just show that your body sustained a life for nine months.” I shake my head, pressing a kiss in her hair. “You’re perfect,” I repeat. Then, more hesitantly, “I thought that from the second you burst into my office—and I’m just your fake boyfriend