His hidden heir
Alicia looked up from her laptop as her son ran toward her, paper flapping in his hand.
Aiden. Five years old. Dark wavy hair that never stayed in place. Brown eyes that sparkled with mischief. Alex’s sharp jawline and high cheekbones on a cherubic face.
“What is it, baby?”
“It’s us! You, me, and Aunt Zawa! Can we put it on the fwidge?”
“The fridge,” she corrected, “Come on say it, Fr-idge.
“Fwidge!” He grinned, missing his front tooth.
She laughed despite herself. “Yes, we can put it up.”