The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 85

Orion

Dinner felt strangely hollow without Aveline's presence. I found myself pushing food around my plate, barely tasting Mitchell's expertly prepared salmon while Ryan chattered about his day. Every few minutes, my eyes would drift to the empty chair where she should have been sitting, and I'd feel an odd tightness in my chest that I couldn't quite explain.

*This is ridiculous,* I told myself firmly. *She's just Ryan's teacher. Her presence or absence shouldn't affect my appetite.*

But apparently my body hadn't received that memo, because I managed only a few bites before giving up entirely.

After Ryan was settled with his bath and bedtime story, I retreated to my bedroom with every intention of catching up on some work emails. Instead, I found myself sprawled across my bed in rumpled pajamas, half-heartedly watching some action movie while my mind wandered in directions I didn't want to examine too closely.

I was just contemplating whether the protagonist's chances of survival were realistic when my bedroom door burst open. Ryan appeared in the doorway, armed with his favorite stuffed dog, a bag of goldfish crackers, and a look of determined concern.

"Hey there, buddy," I said, quickly switching to my normal parental demeanor and pasting on a smile. "What's wrong? Are you upset that Miss Aveline didn't stay for dinner? Don't worry about it—I'm sure she had other plans. Come here, we can hang out and watch something fun instead."

But instead of climbing onto the bed looking sad, Ryan studied my face with those unnervingly perceptive dark eyes and grinned.

"Daddy," he said matter-of-factly, settling himself cross-legged on my comforter and opening his crackers, "Miss Aveline spent the whole day with me today. I'm super happy! She taught me so many things and we had so much fun. Why would I be sad?" He tilted his head with genuine confusion. "But you barely ate any dinner, and now you're watching boring grown-up movies in your pajamas. Are you the one who's sad?"

The directness of his observation hit me like a cold slap. I opened my mouth to deny it, to deflect with some joke about work stress or tiredness, but Ryan was looking at me with such gentle understanding that the words died in my throat.

"That's..." I started weakly, then gave up. "Ryan, sometimes adults have complicated feelings that—"

"It's okay, Daddy," Ryan interrupted, patting my arm with the sage wisdom only five-year-olds possess. "Next time I'll invite her over for dinner again, and you can find an excuse to stay home from work so you can eat with us too. Then you won't be sad anymore."

I stared at my son—this incredible little person who had somehow figured out in five minutes what I'd been trying to deny for hours—and felt simultaneously proud and horrified.

"You know what, kiddo?" I said finally, ruffling his hair. "Sometimes being a little less observant might make you more popular with adults."

Ryan's face immediately fell, and I realized with growing horror what my words might have sounded like to a child who had spent the first years of his life struggling with social connections.

"You mean like how I used to be?" he asked quietly. "When I didn't talk much and didn't notice things?"

*Fuck.* The last thing I wanted was for Ryan to think I preferred him when he was withdrawn and struggling.

"No, no, no," I said quickly, pulling him into my arms and holding him tight. "I'm sorry, buddy. Daddy said something stupid. I love how smart and observant you are. I love that you notice things and care about people's feelings. Don't ever go back to being quiet just because grown-ups are weird about their emotions, okay?"

Ryan relaxed against me, apparently satisfied with my correction. "Okay. But I'm still not leaving until you watch something better. Unless you want to watch Peppa Pig with me?"

I was about to negotiate for something marginally more age-appropriate when a familiar voice drifted through my bedroom doorway.

"Well, well, well! Look who's having a pajama party without me!"

Both Ryan and I turned toward the door to see what appeared to be a giant stuffed unicorn with rainbow mane walking into the room. The unicorn was approximately three feet tall and had clearly been strategically positioned to hide whoever was carrying it.

Ryan's delighted squeal nearly shattered my eardrums. "Great-grandpa Bryce! I can see your shoes!"

The unicorn deflated slightly as my grandfather's perfectly styled silver head appeared over its horn, his face wearing a expression of mock disappointment.

"Blast! Foiled by my own sartorial excellence!" He set the unicorn down and gave Ryan an elaborate bow. "Good evening, Master Ryan. I come bearing gifts and questionable timing."

Ryan immediately launched himself at the unicorn, wrapping his arms around it with pure joy. "It's so soft! And look at its sparkly horn!"

"Only the finest imaginary horse for my great-grandson," Bryce said solemnly. "Now then, why don't you take your new friend to your room and introduce him to the rest of your menagerie? I need to have a brief word with your father about Very Important Adult Business."