chapter 8
I smiled bitterly. “Isn’t this what you always wanted, Mr. Grant?”
In the six years of our secret marriage, he had never acknowledged that we were husband and wife. And he had never let Tyler call him Dad. The only difference was that before, he had forced our son to call him Mr. Grant. Today, Tyler chose to draw the line himself.
I lowered my eyes and tried to pull my hand away, but his grip stayed firm. His gaze was complex and heavy.
“Give me a few days. I’ll explain things to Tyler,” I said quietly. “Quilla is waiting for you. Let go.”
It was only then that Matthew seemed to realize what he was doing. He reluctantly released me.
I let out a cold laugh, took Tyler’s hand, and turned to leave.
“Wait.” He hurried to his car, grabbed a cake box, and handed it to me. “Happy birthday, Tyler.”
Quilla chimed in at just the right moment. “That cake was meant for me. But what a coincidence—it’s your son’s birthday, Ms. Langley. I hope you don’t mind.”
The cake in my hands felt unbearably heavy. I was about to return it, but the spark of joy in Tyler’s eyes stopped me. My heart softened. He didn’t understand the battles between adults. He only looked at Matthew with hopeful eyes. “Will you eat it with me?”
Matthew hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Tyler cheered and dragged me into the living room. He urged me to get the cake out. I patted his head and quickly cut the cake.