The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 433

Mia's POV

"Walk!" I call after him, but he's not walking. He's definitely not walking. He's moving at that particular velocity that's not quite running but definitely not walking either, that in-between speed that kids somehow perfect.

I hear the door open.

Scarlett appears first. She's wearing a beautiful dress—emerald green silk that moves like water.

Morton follows behind her, and the space between them is too big. He tries to reach for her elbow as they cross the threshold.

She pulls away.

His face does something—hurt and resignation all mixed together—and his hand drops back to his side.

Intersting.

"Morning," Scarlett says, and her voice is bright. She's holding flowers—pink roses and baby's breath tied with white ribbon—and she crosses to Madison, kneeling down despite her dress and her heels. "These are for you, sweetheart. For after. For your special day."

"For me?" Madison takes the bouquet carefully, like it might break.

"For you. Because today you become official."

"Thank you." Madison buries her face in the roses, breathing in deeply. "They smell like summer."

Morton stands awkwardly near the door, his hands in his pockets, and he's looking at Scarlett's back.

I catch Scarlett's eye and raise my eyebrows in a question.

She gives the tiniest shake of her head. Not now.

"Coffee?" my mother offers, already moving toward the pot.

"God, yes," Scarlett says, straightening up. "Make it strong. Or just give me the pot. I'll drink from the pot."

My mother pours two mugs, handing one to Scarlett and offering the other to Morton.

"Thank you," he says quietly, and his voice sounds rough, like he hasn't been sleeping well.

They take positions on opposite sides of the kitchen—Scarlett near the window, Morton near the door—and the distance between them might as well be the Grand Canyon.

The doorbell rings again.

This time Gas doesn't bark. She just wags her tail, and I realize she must be learning to recognize the pattern of who's arriving when.

Sophie sweeps in like a force of nature, and there's no other way to describe it. She's wearing a red dress—because of course she's wearing red, Sophie only wears red—that probably costs more than my mortgage payment. Her heels are impossibly high, and she's carrying what looks like a bottle of very expensive champagne and a designer bag that could double as a small suitcase.

"Darling!" She spots Madison first and descends on her with the intensity of a homing missile. "Today is THE day! The OFFICIAL day! Look at you! You look like a little princess! No, not a princess—a duchess! More sophisticated than a princess!"

But then Thomas walks in behind her, and something about the way they move together catches my attention. They're not bickering. They're not taking potshots at each other. In fact, they're almost... companionable?

Thomas is carrying a smaller bag, and when Sophie gestures dramatically about something, he doesn't roll his eyes.

"Thomas helped me pick out the champagne," Sophie announces. "He has surprisingly good taste for someone who wears beige so frequently."

"It's gray," Thomas corrects mildly. "My suit is gray, not beige."

"Same thing. Colorless. Personality-less. But your champagne knowledge is acceptable." She pats his arm, and it's almost affectionate.

"Is that for after the ceremony?" I ask, gesturing to the champagne.

"But of course! We must celebrate properly! In France, we drink champagne for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all the moments between. Americans are far too uptight about alcohol and time."

"It's 9:50 in the morning."

"Exactly! The day is already old! We're practically late!"

Alexander has attached himself to Thomas's leg like a barnacle, arms wrapped around Thomas's calf, talking up at him in that rapid-fire way he has. "Uncle Thomas! You're here! Did you know today is Madison's special day? She's becoming our sister OFFICIALLY! Not just regular sister but LEGAL sister which means there will be PAPERS and—"

"I did know that," Thomas says gently, and he reaches down to ruffle Alexander's hair in that absent way adults do with children they care about. "That's why I came. To support Madison. And all of you."

"Are you excited?"

"Very excited."

"Me too! I'm so excited my brain won't turn off! Mama says I need to calm down but how can I calm down when something THIS IMPORTANT is happening? Do you have that problem? Where your brain won't calm down?"

"Sometimes," Thomas admits.

"What do you do?"

"I count backwards from one hundred."

Alexander's eyes go wide like Thomas just revealed the secret to the universe. "Does it work?"

"Usually."

"I'm going to try that tonight. Well, not tonight because tonight I'll probably be too excited about Madison being OFFICIAL to sleep anyway, but maybe tomorrow night I'll try it."

The doorbell rings one more time, and everyone in the kitchen goes still.

I know who it is. We all know who it is.

But knowing doesn't stop my heart from doing that complicated thing where it speeds up and slows down at the same time, where my pulse seems to be in my throat and my wrists and my chest all at once.

Alexander detaches from Thomas and runs toward the door—again—and this time I don't even bother telling him to walk because he's not going to listen and honestly, I don't have the energy to fight that battle right now.

"—and Daddy, you're here! Madison's becoming my sister today! OFFICIALLY!" Alexander's voice carries from the hallway, high and excited and so loud I'm surprised the neighbors can't hear.

"I know, buddy." Kyle's voice is quieter, warmer, with that particular gentleness he uses with the children. "That's why I came."

"Are you excited?"

"Very excited."

"That's SO LONG. That's like forever. That's like a hundred years. That's—"

"It's twenty-eight minutes," Ethan says from the table, not looking up from his waffles. "That's exactly 1,680 seconds. Which is a long time in seconds but not a long time in minutes. It depends on how you measure it."

"Well, it FEELS like forever," Alexander insists.

"Feelings aren't the same as facts."

"But feelings are important too!"

"I didn't say they weren't important. I said they weren't the same as facts."

"Well your facts are boring!"

"Facts can't be boring. They're just facts."

Before Alexander can escalate this into a full argument about the emotional value of facts versus the factual value of emotions, Madison appears beside me and tugs on my hand gently.

I look down at her, and her face is pale, her eyes wide.

"Bathroom," she whispers. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Okay, baby. Come on."

I follow her down the hallway, and just before we reach the bathroom, she stops and turns to me.

"Mia?" Her voice is so small I have to lean down to hear her properly.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"What if—" She stops, swallows, tries again. "What if I do something wrong today? What if I say the wrong thing or act the wrong way and the judge decides he doesn't want me to be adopted after all?"

I kneel down right there in the hallway, ignoring the way my knees protest against the hard floor, and I take both her hands in mine.

"Madison, listen to me. There is nothing you could do or say that would make the judge change his mind. You know why?"

She shakes her head.

"Because he's not judging you. He's making sure you're safe and loved and in a good home. And you are all those things. You are so loved, baby. By me, by your brothers, by everyone in that kitchen right now. And the judge is going to see that. He's going to see how much we love you and how much you belong with us, and he's going to make it official."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

She throws her arms around my neck, and I hold her tight, feeling her small body trembling slightly against mine.

"I love you, Mama," she whispers into my neck.

Mama.