“Alright then.” Irwin turned to Rosita, his little face solemn. “Since you didn’t mean it, Mom, I’ll forgive you this
time!”
At his words, Rosita was so overwhelmed with joy that tears sprang to her eyes. She hugged Irwin tightly. “Thank you, sweetheart. I promise I’ll try even harder to be a good mom from now on.”
Held in Rosita’s arms, Irwin no longer felt afraid, but the scent of her perfume tugged at something inside him. He found himself missing Briony all over again.
He’d never liked the strong perfume Rosita wore. What he loved was the gentle, clean scent that always lingered on his real mom. Whenever he nestled in her arms, breathing in that familiar fragrance, he felt truly happy and safe.
But Dad had said that Mom was expecting a new baby and needed her rest, so he had to be a good boy and not disturb her. He needed to let Mom focus on bringing the baby into the world. Once the baby was born, Dad promised to take him to bring Mom and the new baby home together.
Thinking about that, Irwin’s mood lifted. Clutching his toy, he went to sit on the playmat nearby and played quietly on his own.
Rosita watched him, feeling proud of herself for soothing Irwin so easily.
Seeing that he was absorbed in his toys, she turned to Stewart. “Shall we go upstairs?”
Stewart just gave a noncommittal hum and walked straight up without waiting for her.
Rosita watched his cold, distant back and silently clenched her fists. Was it because he’d learned Briony was pregnant? Was that why he couldn’t even be bothered to pretend anymore?
Upstairs, on the balcony.
Night had fallen and the soft glow of the balcony light filled the space.
Stewart lit a cigarette and leaned against the railing, exhaling a slow stream of smoke into the cool air.
Rosita joined him, standing at his side. She tilted her chin slightly, watching him in the lamplight.
His profile was as cold and striking as ever, long fingers holding the cigarette, eyes narrowed in thought as he drew in another breath and let the smoke curl from his lips.
Rosita couldn’t look away. This was the man she had loved for ten long years. Yet, she realized, she’d never truly understood what lay in his heart.
“Stewart, I’ve decided to go back to work.”
He stilled, glancing over at her. “You’re sure about that?”
She nodded. “Yes. My memory came back last week.”
His brows arched, dark eyes fixed on her. Their gazes met–his, cool and appraising; hers, open and unafraid.
“Since I lost my memory, my request about us having a wedding doesn’t count anymore,” Rosita said, a faint smile touching her lips. “You’re Randolph’s closest friend, and I’m grateful you’ve looked after me. I can’t ask you to sacrifice your own happiness.”
Stewart’s brows drew together at the mention of that name–Randolph. It had been years since he’d spoken it out loud.
“You’re Irwin’s biological mother. It’s only right for me to look after you,” he said after a pause. “But returning to work now isn’t a good idea. Your health-”
“My brother found an experimental treatment for me overseas,” Rosita interrupted. “It’s working. I had a
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checkup last week, and the tumor’s under control. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Dr. Clarke–I saw him myself.”
Stewart said nothing.
“Even though the tumor’s stable now, surgery still won’t be easy,” she added quietly.
