Chapter 173
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Aaden, however, was entirely unbothered by it. He picked up a blue brick and studied Jocelyn with open curiosity.
“You smell nice,” he announced. “Like vanilla.”
Gaston went still. His ears turned a vivid shade of red.
Jocelyn glanced at Gaston, then back at the boy. “Thank you, Aaden.”
“Eat your pizza, Aaden,” Gaston muttered, not looking up.
𝖱𝗲cоm𝗺𝖾n𝗱 𝘨𝗮𝘭𝗇𝗼v𝖾𝘭𝗌.𝘤o𝘮 𝘁o y𝘰u𝗋 f𝗿𝘪еn𝖽ѕ
Saturday morning brought a rare truce to the penthouse. It was difficult to sustain anger when there was a five-year-old running through the rooms in a superhero cape.
Gaston had retreated to his study under the cover of an urgent conference call, using work as a shield to avoid being in the same room as Jocelyn.
Aaden was bored. He was kicking a soccer ball against the wall — a wall covered in hand-painted silk wallpaper that cost more than most cars.
Jocelyn winced at every thud.
“Hey, Messi,” she said, stepping in to catch the ball. “Want to go out? We can’t destroy the apartment.”
“Uncle G is boring,” Aaden complained, dropping dramatically onto the rug.
“Let’s go to the mall,” Jocelyn decided. “I need to buy a gift.”
She had not stopped feeling guilty about the tickets. She wanted to find Gaston a real apology gift — something that showed she cared, even if she remained thoroughly confused about the nature of what was growing between them.
An hour later, they were at The Shops at Columbus Circle, surrounded by noise and crowds and the particular energy of a Saturday in the city.
They sat on a bench eating gelato. Aaden had chocolate smeared across his chin.
“I have to use the bathroom,” he announced, hopping off the bench.
“Right there,” Jocelyn said, pointing to the family restroom nearby. “Don’t talk to strangers.”
Aaden disappeared inside. Two minutes later he emerged, drying his hands on his jeans.
His gaze drifted toward the entrance of a high-end department store. A woman was walking in — a camel trench coat, long dark hair cascading down her back, a walk that was confident and unhurried.
Aaden’s eyes went wide. His toy car hit the floor.
“Mommy?” he whispered.
He ran.
“Aaden! Stop!” Jocelyn lunged for him, but he was already gone, weaving through the crowd of shoppers like a guided missile.
He plunged into the store and grabbed the woman’s coat, burying his face in the fabric.
“Mommy! You came back!” he sobbed, clutching her with both hands. “You came back!”
The woman spun around.
It was Carmen Golden.
She looked down at the child wrapped around her legs, shock written plainly across her face. “Excuse me?”
Aaden clung tighter, his small body shaking. “Don’t leave again! I’ll be good! I promise!”
Jocelyn caught up, breathless. “Aaden! Oh my god.”
She looked up. “Carmen?”
Carmen’s expression was unreadable — somewhere between bewilderment and alarm — her hands raised, uncertain whether to reach for the child or gently pull away. “Ms. Wolfe? Is this your child?”
“No, he’s my nephew,” Jocelyn managed between breaths, crouching to loosen Aaden’s grip. “Aaden, let go, sweetheart. This isn’t Mommy.”