Lily Thompson
Something was off the moment Isabella got in the car.
She didn’t bounce into the backseat like she usually did. No excited chatter about what her friends wore or who won at recess. Just a quiet “hi,” then silence, her backpack clutched in her lap like a shield.
Ryan noticed it too. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “Rough day, Bells?”
She shrugged, staring out the window.
I turned around in my seat. “Sweetheart? Did something happen?”
“No,” she said too quickly. “I’m fine.”
But she didn’t look fine. She looked like someone had taken the sunshine out of her.
At home, she barely touched her after-school snack. No coloring, no cartoons, no asking if Ryan and I could help her pick between being a doctor or a pirate. Just quiet. Moody. Withdrawn.
I sat beside her on the couch. “Izzy. Talk to me.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t want to.”
“Did someone say something at school?”
She didn’t answer. But her eyes filled, and she blinked fast like she didn’t want me to see. My stomach twisted.
Ryan tried next. “C’mon, kid. You’re the bravest one here. What’s going on?”
Still nothing.
Eventually, she mumbled, “I’m just tired.”
She wasn’t tired.
But I didn’t push. Not yet.
That night after dinner, I heard her bedroom door creak open. Tiny footsteps padded into the living room. Ryan and I were on opposite ends of the couch, a quiet movie playing.
“Mommy?” Isabella stood in the doorway, hugging her teddy. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I frowned. “Is something wrong, baby?”
She looked down. “My room feels too big.”
Ryan sat up straighter. “Want me to sit with you till you fall asleep?”
She hesitated. Then shook her head.
“Can… can both of you come?”
I blinked. “Both?”
She nodded. “Like… together. Just for a little while.”
I looked at Ryan. He looked at me.
It wasn’t the request that stunned me. It was the way she said it. Hopeful. Like she was testing something.
And I didn’t have the heart to say no.
I reached for her hand, and so did Ryan. She took both, one in each of her tiny fists, and led us quietly down the hallway like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And for one impossible moment, it almost felt like it was.
I didn’t know what was running through that little mind of hers…
Isabella
Today was a stupid day.
Tasha said my coat looked too fancy. Mia said I couldn’t come to ‘Bring Your Parents Day’ because I don’t have a real dad. I wanted to yell that I did! Kind of. But what would I say when they ask where he is?
And I didn’t know what I’d say after that.
They laughed. I didn’t. I just looked at my shoes and said nothing. Mommy looked so happy when she picked me up, so I didn’t tell her.
I’ve asked Mommy before where my daddy is. She always feels uncomfortable or sad. Most times she says he is in heaven watching me grow.
I like looking at heaven, but it’s hard to hug him from heaven on Field‑Trip Day.
Uncle Riri said he’d buy me ice cream. I didn’t want any.
I didn’t want to talk.
I just wanted to cry.
But I didn’t. Because doctors don’t cry. Especially not the kind that help sick animals and people at the same time.
At bedtime, I didn’t want to go in my room. It was too quiet. Too lonely. So I asked Mommy if I could sleep in her bed. But I didn’t really want just her.
I wanted both of them. Like how families are supposed to be.
I thought she’d say no.
But she said yes.
And then—then I held their hands. Mommy on one side, Uncle Riri on the other. And they followed me.
All the way down the hall.
It was the best part of today. Maybe even the best part of the week.
I didn’t fall asleep right away.
I stayed really still. I listened to them breathing next to me. I pretended it was always like this.
And I made a wish.
A really big one.
That maybe if I was extra good…
Uncle Riri would marry mommy
If Uncle Riri married Mommy, and became my daddy nobody could laugh at me again.
They fight and argue like cartoon people, but I think I can fix that.
I’ll make them like each other. I’ll make them love each other.
Operation Match‑Make‑Mommy and Uncle Riri starts tomorrow.
We got to peek inside Isabella’s little heart today — and what a powerful moment that was.This chapter wasn’t about dramatic speeches or killer outfits. It was about what happens in the quiet: A child’s longing. A mother’s ache. And a man who doesn’t realize how close he already is to becoming someone’s whole world. And just like that… our girl Izzy is launching Operation Match-Make Mommy and Uncle Riri. You didn’t think she’d sit back and let this slow-burn unfold on its own, did you?
Lily ThompsonI was going to lose my mind.My body hadn’t calmed down since yesterday. Not even close. That man,Ryan, was messing with my entire nervous system. My skin felt too tight. My throat dry. My core? Flooded like a damn faucet had burst open down there and wouldn’t stop.And now here I was, at nine-freaking-thirty in the morning, legs curled up in bed with my phone in one hand, scrolling through what could only be described as the horniest section of the internet: the sex toy section.The names alone were sending me into cardiac arrest. What in God’s name was a “ThrustMaster 3000”? And why did it have attachments that looked like they belonged in a sci-fi movie? Then there was the “Bunny Bender” complete with rotating beads, pulsing ears, and something labeled “triple intensity.” Triple intensity? I was struggling with just the single intensity of Ryan’s voice in my head.There were Clitoral suction, curved shaft, rabbit ears, quiet mode…That one got a hard stare.I wasn’t ju
Lily Thompson I woke up panting.My body was on fire.Every inch of me was tight, pulsing, aching for something I hadn’t even thought about in years.I pressed my thighs together and groaned softly. “Fuck”I blinked at the ceiling, chest heaving.What the hell was this?My sheets were a mess, tangled around my legs. My robe had slipped down one shoulder and my nipples were tight, pebble-hard against the cool air. Worse, so much worse, I was soaked.Down there.Soaked and throbbing and needy like I hadn’t been in six years.Six. Whole. Years.I hadn’t had sex since Isabella was born.And that had been fine. I was fine. My energy had gone into keeping Isabella safe and fed, working myself raw at three jobs just to scrape through. I hadn’t had the time or the luxury of being horny. Not once in all that time had I woken up like this—panting, aroused, craving something hard and deepUntil now.Until him.Until Ryan stepped back into my life and started ruining every shred of self-control I
Ryan EdwardsThe office emptied with the slow hush of after-hours, but my mind kept hammering one truth: a single half-believable excuse wasn’t enough. If Lily stayed suspicious, every glance, every question would slice a little deeper until the whole façade bled out in front of her.I needed something ordinary, something that looked like the real life of a mid-level employee who definitely didn’t own penthouses or private jets.That was why I’d rented the small apartment in the first place.Time to use it.I found Lily at her desk around six, packing her laptop. She didn’t glance up.“Hey.” I kept my tone light. “Small panic. Theo needs tomorrow’s payroll review sheets. I, uh, left the signed originals at my place.”She slid her gaze to me. “You can scan them in the morning.”“Finance needs them queued tonight. Audit window.” I held up my phone, screen lit with an exaggerated string of frantic messages from Theo (I’d drafted them to myself). “If I cab across town I’ll miss Isabella’s
Ryan EdwardsShe knows.I don’t have proof, but I’ve been in too many boardrooms and survived too many interrogations to ignore gut instinct. And mine was screaming at me now.Lily knows I’m hiding something.She didn’t say anything outright. She didn’t throw accusations or slam a door. That’s not her style. But the shift in her energy since yesterday afternoon was too sharp to ignore.She was fine in the morning—flustered, yes, adorably so after our accidental sleep-cuddle—but then she went quiet. Not just annoyed, quiet. Suspicious quiet. The kind of quiet that hums with unsaid questions and unspoken conclusions.She didn’t meet my eyes. Barely mumbled goodbye as she hopped out of the car. And at the office, she avoided me with precision.At first, I chalked it up to our… proximity. Maybe she was embarrassed. Maybe she was finally drawing a line. But when I got back to my desk that afternoon, I noticed the drawer was ajar.The leather case inside—the one holding the Lang & Peregrine
Lily Thompson The question nagged at me: How did he afford that?And more urgently… who exactly was Ryan Edwards now?That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the watch. Even after tucking Isabella into bed and reading her favorite book for the third time, my mind kept circling the same drain.He said he worked under Theo. That he was just another corporate man trying to get by.But nothing about that watch said “just another man.”After cleaning up the kitchen, I found myself lingering in the hallway between our rooms, unsure if I should knock. Ask. Demand. Snoop.Instead, I went to my room and flopped into bed, dragging the covers up like a shield. But sleep wouldn’t come.So I opened my journal.And I remembered.College. Junior year.It was raining. Not the romantic kind of rain either. It was one of those sleety, sideways torrents that made your socks wet and your books soggy.I had waited for Ryan for over an hour. We had plans. Big ones. I was supposed to meet his parents.In
Lily Thompson I was trying to remember all the reasons I should hate him. All the pain he caused me. All the nights I stayed up wondering what I did wrong. But the memories felt slippery lately, blurred by his ridiculous smile and the way he made my–our daughter laugh like nothing else mattered.The toast popped up three minutes ago, but I still hadn’t moved.I sat at the dining table in my sleep-rumpled tee, staring at the butter knife poised above the plate, willing my pulse to slow down. It refused. Unfortunately, so did my imagination.Heat crawled through me every time my mind replayed the accidental “good-morning groping” that had happened in Ryan’s bed.I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the treacherous throb at the back of my throat.Stop thinking about him.Stop thinking about the way his stomach tightened under your fingers.Stop thinking about how hard—My thighs clenched involuntarily, and I bit out a curse beneath my breath.This was ridiculous. I was twenty three, not thir