The Fifth Year of Marriage to Him novel Chapter 32

Chapter 32

His anger simmered beneath the surface.

Lucille couldn’t fathom why he was furious. Wasn’t he swamped with work?

Since when did he remember to call her?

And why rage over a turned–off phone?

He’d been tending to Maricela–she hadn’t even gotten angry. What right did he have?

“Oh. Didn’t think you’d call.”

Her voice was flat as she gazed at the sunset.

Must be the glare stinging her eyes–not that lipstick smudge on his collar and neck.

Had the Cedrick she’d loved for years, the marriage she’d guarded through every humiliation, finally become irredeemably tainted?

“Didn’t think I’d call?”

Cedrick shot a glare at Aydan sitting nearby, jaw tight. “I’m your husband. Who else would call–you?”

She shook her head, pushing herself up using the barre. “Who knows?

I don’t have any ex–boyfriends.”

His expression shifted, brows furrowing. “Lucille-”

But she picked up a pack of wet wipes, limping heavily yet calmly toward him. She pulled one out, wiped his neck, then tucked the stained tissue into his breast pocket. “Grandma made Savory Duck Stew. Smells amazing. Dinner’s ready.”

Pausing at the door, she added without turning, “You should change or wash that shirt before coming in. Grandma might see it. Though I suppose explanations don’t matter if you‘ ve stopped caring.”

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Chapter 32

238 Vouchers

She’d wondered if Cedrick and Maricela had crossed lines. Yet facing the truth now, she felt only cerie calm–a calm that ached, a calm that made her press a hand to her chest.

She had to hold it there.

If this pain crashed over her like a tidal wave, how could she ever pretend to be happy again?

“Aydan! Dinner!”

She called out after leaving the dance studio.

That boy and Cedrick were practically snarling at each other. Better stop them before fists flew.

Not that she cared about Cedrick getting hurt. She’d eventually tell Grandma about the divorce with composure–but she refused to drag her into this chaos.

“Why do you get to eat here?”

Cedrick dropped all pretense, glaring straight at Aydan.

Aydan just smirked. “Ever seen Lucille dance?”

Cedrick froze. Even after dominating boardrooms for years, he couldn’t

parse

that question.

With a laugh, Aydan followed Lucille inside.

Five minutes later, Cedrick entered too, his collar damp from washing.

“Grandma.”

He greeted her the moment he stepped in.

“Oh, Cedrick! Sit, sit. I’ll get you a bowl.”

Grandma beamed.

“No need, Grandma, you sit. I’ll get it myself.”

He glanced at Aydan and added, “I’m not a guest here anyway.”

True to his word, he darted off to the kitchen before Grandma could move, returning with bowls, chopsticks, and a soup ladle. He served Grandma a bowl of soup, then turned to Aydan with the ladle, radiating the air of a host.

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Aydan politely declined, but Cedrick insisted. The two men engaged in a brief tug–of–war over the soup bowl.

Lucille grabbed another bowl and handed it to Aydan. “If he likes that bowl, let him have it. Use this one instead.”

Cedrick shot her a dark glare, remaining silent.

“Cedrick, just eat. We can all serve ourselves,” Grandma finally interjected softly.

Perhaps because Grandma’s character differed so profoundly from her parents, Cedrick always treated her with respect. He loved her cooking–though today’s dishes clearly lacked his preferred level of spice.

“Cedrick, I didn’t know you were coming, so I didn’t prepare anything spicy. Next time, I’ll make your favorites,” Grandma offered gently.

Cedrick paused. “Grandma, do you all avoid spicy food when I’m not here?”

“Yes,” Grandma replied with a warm smile. “My tastes are mild, and Lucille has preferred light meals since her dancing days.”

“So…” Cedrick turned to Lucille.