Chapter 52

Lauren

The mansion felt unfamiliar the moment I stepped inside, despite the countless times I’d been here before. It used to feel warm, but now it was heavy, as if the air itself braced for the storm we were about to unleash.

The walls were still the same pale gray, the sleek, modern furniture—Alexander’s taste, not mine—but Sophia’s presence lingered in the little things: red roses in every room, dark drapes, framed paintings I knew he’d never have chosen. Only she could pick something so gaudy.

I set my bag down and glanced at Alexander. He stood behind me, stiff, hands deep in his pockets. For a moment, he looked like the man I used to know—the one I’d loved so fiercely it nearly destroyed me. But the moment passed, his face hardening again.

“You can take the guest room,” he said, his voice clipped, like we were discussing business, not upending our lives for our children.

It was still hard to believe: Abigail and I, staying at Alexander’s as a family. The compromise that took days to reach… even if it didn’t feel like one.

But as much as I wanted to fight it, I knew Abigail deserved to know her father, no matter how much of a pain he was. I had no right to take his children from him without giving him a proper chance.

I nodded, my chest tight. Abigail’s laughter echoed from upstairs, light and carefree, a stark contrast to the tension between us.

“I’ll check on them,” I murmured, turning away before he could respond. I didn’t want another argument.

I climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last, the memory of a chipped step reminding me of a simpler time. At the landing, I paused, listening to their voices from Abigail’s new room.

Inside, they were surrounded by Legos. Abigail grinned, her curls bouncing as she gestured animatedly, while Owen nodded, his usual relaxed expression on his face.

I watched them for a moment, my heart aching. They looked so natural together, but the truth was messier than that.

“Hey, you two,” I said softly.

Abigail’s face lit up. “Mom! Look, Owen and I built a spaceship!” She held up a lopsided creation.

“Uh, she built it,” Owen scoffed, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “I told her those thrusters could never hold up that ship.”

Abigail stuck her tongue out at him as I approached.

“Well, I think it’s amazing,” I said, crouching down beside her.

Owen’s guarded expression softened when I brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. A small victory.

“You guys hungry?” I asked. “Pizza?”

Abigail’s eyes widened. “Pizza?! Really?!”

“Really, really,” I said, ruffling her hair. “Clean up, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Downstairs, Alexander was pulling a frozen pizza from the freezer. He glanced up as I entered. “Pizza get the okay, or?”

“Naturally,” I said, leaning against the counter. “It’s Abigail’s favorite.”

He nodded, sliding the pizza onto a tray. We stood in silence for a moment, the hum of the oven filling the space between us. At least we weren’t fighting.

It seemed odd, eating frozen pizza when both he and I knew we could easily afford to have a nicer one delivered. But for some reason, it made this feel like a family—at least, like we were pretending to be one.

“They seem happy,” I said finally, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, well, they are twins,” he said, his tone edged.

The silence came back with the ticking of the clock.

“Abigail won’t stop talking about her new room,” I offered. “You didn’t need to go all out on the plushies. She’ll get used to being spoiled.”

“She’s my daughter,” He said pointedly, his large forearms folding over his chest. “She should be.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing back a snippy retort. It felt strange, suddenly sharing the responsibility of parenting when it had always just been me and her. Maybe we had different parenting styles.

Great, another thing to fight over.

“I wanted to ask,” he interrupted my thoughts, his voice low, almost like a dare. “Later this week, I have some free time. Would you want to join me for dinner?”

My brow furrowed. “Us? Alone?”

A smirk tugged at his lips, his gaze never leaving mine as he gestured between us. “I don't see anyone else here.”

I bristled, stepping back, my heart beating a little faster. “I'm here, doing this for them, Alexander. Not for us.”

“I know,” he chuckled, his voice smooth and mocking. “You've made that perfectly clear. But there's nothing wrong with discussing it over a good meal.”

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my composure, but my breath was coming quicker. This wasn’t the time for another argument.

“Maybe,” I said, my voice quieter now. “For their sake. But it better be a nice restaurant. The kind where the prices aren’t printed on the menu.”

“And if I bought you a nice dress?” He pushed off the counter, his movements slow, deliberate, as he closed the distance between us. “You'd wear it?”

My eyes narrowed, my pulse quickening. “If you had any taste, then yes.”

He stopped just in front of me, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, but the heat radiating off him made my throat dry.

“I remember your taste just fine.” His voice was low, devouring.

His breath brushed my skin, and I tucked my chin, trying to steady myself under the weight of his presence.

I was raising a hand to his chest to push him away when the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the tension, and a moment later, Abigail and Owen bounded into the kitchen.

We stepped apart as Abigail chattered excitedly about their Lego spaceship, and Owen actually smiled—a small, tentative smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Alexander said, his tone softening as he looked at them.

Abigail grinned. “Can we watch a movie after?”

“Sure,” I said, ruffling her hair again.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of pizza, laughter, and a Disney movie that had Abigail and Owen both curled up on the couch, their heads resting against each other. For a little while, it almost felt normal. Almost.

When the movie ended, I went to carry a sleepy Abigail upstairs when Alexander plucked her up with one hand and Owen in the other. I blinked surprised, the drozy twins weren’t light but Alexander showed no fatigue as he made his way up the steps with them to their rooms.

I followed close behind, Owen opening his eyes for a mommet, meeting my own. I smiled as he gave me a sleepy wave.

By the time I got Abigail tucked in, the house was quiet again, the earlier warmth fading into an uneasy stillness.

I found Alexander back in the living room, cleaning up the leftover plates. He didn’t look up as I entered, but I could tell he knew I was there.

“They had a good night,” I said, plucking a napkin from the floor.

“Yeah,” he said. “Night one, a success.”

“One night is a start,” I nodded.

He finally looked at me, his eyes tired but still sharp. “You’re still planning to leave.”

It wasn’t a question.

I nodded again.

He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed, setting a glass down on the coffee table.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice low.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned and headed for the stairs, my heart weighed down by everything left unsaid.

This arrangement was temporary. For the kids. That was the only reason I was here. But as I climbed into bed that night, an annoying flutter of giddiness twisted in my stomach. Dinner. With Alexander. Alone.

I flipped my pillow, desperate for some cool relief, but it didn’t help.