“Dad,” she whispers, patting Rome’s cheek. “Dad, we’re cuddling.” “Oh good,” he murmurs, “thanks for letting me know.” She arranges Rome’s arm over her to her liking and then looks over her shoulder at Damien expectantly. He drapes his arm over them both, tucking his hand up the back of Rome’s sleep shirt, palm against morning-warm skin. Finley nods approvingly and returns her attention to Rome. “We’re not swimming today,” she informs him. “We’re sleeping in because we’re Stanley Cup champions.” Rome opens his eyes. He meets Damien’s, grinning. He kisses Finley’s forehead, then leans closer to
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