The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 455

Mia

I stood up from the bench. My legs were stiff. My jeans damp and cold against my thighs. My sneakers had soaked through completely—I could feel water between my toes with each step.

"Come on," I said to Gas. "Let's go home."

I clipped the leash back on. It took three tries—my fingers clumsy with cold or something else. Gas waited patiently, her pregnant belly swaying slightly when she shifted weight.

The streets were busier now. Saturday morning arriving with its slower rhythm. The bodega had its gate all the way up and I could smell fresh coffee drifting out. For a moment I considered stopping. Getting coffee. Sitting on the curb and delaying everything waiting for me at home.

But my kids were there. Kyle was there. And I'd walked out in the middle of a fight without saying anything real.

So I kept moving. Past the bodega. Past Mrs. Rodriguez's building where bacon smells were even stronger. Past the dry cleaner that never seemed to be open.

I reached my floor. My hand found the knob. The metal was cool. I took a breath and turned it.

Sound hit me first.

"No! The spaceship goes HERE! That's where spaceships LIVE!" Alexander's voice, explaining something he considered obvious.

"That's not structurally sound. It needs support—" Ethan, patient.

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT SUPPORT! IT'S A SPACESHIP!"

I stepped inside and closed the door quietly. My fingers worked at Gas's leash while my eyes adjusted.

The living room looked different. The blanket I'd left crumpled was folded now, draped over the couch back. The coffee table was clear except for one mug on a coaster. The throw pillows were arranged. Someone had been awake for a while. Someone had been sitting here, existing in my space.

Kyle was by the window with his back to me. Phone pressed to his ear. One hand in his pocket.

"—convert it to euros first." His voice was pure business. Clipped. Efficient. "The exchange rate is better if you go through Frankfurt. Yes. I'm aware of the time difference. That's why I'm calling now."

Then I saw the children at the dining table.

They were dressed. Actually dressed. Not half-dressed with shirts backwards and one sock missing. Completely dressed. Hair brushed. Faces clean.

Alexander in his dinosaur shirt—right side out. The tag on the inside where it belonged. His hair was brushed, that cowlick at his crown still refusing to lie flat but the rest tamed.

Ethan in his gray button-up. Every button done correctly. Hair combed back from his forehead.

Madison in her pink shirt with the flowers. Her hair in two ponytails that were slightly uneven—the left one higher than the right—but done. Someone had tried.

Three bowls of cereal. Alexander's overflowing with milk like always. Ethan's measured precisely. Madison's with just enough milk to barely cover the cereal.

I just stood there. Staring.

Kyle turned slightly. Saw me. His eyes met mine and he didn't smile, didn't change expression. Just looked at me while whoever was on the phone kept talking.

"—the Singapore market opens in four hours," he said into the phone, eyes still on me. "I need confirmation before then. Email the contracts. I'll review them before ten."

Madison noticed me first.

"Mama!" She jumped up and ran over. Her arms wrapped around my waist. "You're back!"

"I'm back," I said. My hand went to her head automatically, touching the lopsided ponytails.

"Did you have fun with Gas?" she asked, pulling back to look up at me.

"Yeah. We walked."

"Gas is going to have puppies!" Alexander announced. "Kyle said so! Can we keep them ALL?"

"No," I said automatically.

"But MAMA—"

"No."

"But they'll be SO CUTE—"

"Alexander."

He slumped dramatically. "Fine. But I want to keep ONE. The cutest one."

"They'll all be cute," Ethan said without looking up. "That's how puppies work."

"Then I'll pick the CUTEST cutest one."

Kyle was still on the phone. "—hedge against the yen. Split it three ways. Liquid assets in dollars." Pause. "No. That's not what I said. Listen again—"

I moved into the room. Gas had already gone to her water bowl. Madison followed me like she always did.

"Kyle made breakfast," she said proudly. "He put my cereal in the bowl and got the milk and poured it and asked if it was enough and I said yes."

"Did he?"

"Yeah. And he helped Alexander get dressed. Alexander's shirt was backwards and Kyle fixed it."

I looked at Kyle's back. At the line of his shoulders. At the way his hand moved when he talked—small gestures emphasizing invisible points.

"And he brushed my hair," Madison continued. "He asked if I wanted braids or ponytails and I said ponytails because they're faster."

"They look good," I said. They were uneven but done. Done by someone who'd tried.

"Kyle's been up for a long time," Madison said, quieter now. "He was awake when I woke up. He was sitting on the couch. Just sitting. Looking at the wall."

Just sitting. In the dark. In my apartment while my children slept. What had he thought about?

"—final numbers by Monday." Kyle was ending the call. "If Morrison has a problem with that timeline, he can call me directly. Yes. Fine. Good."

He hung up. Turned around. Our eyes met.

He looked tired. More tired than when I'd left. The kind of tired that lived in bones. But he also looked present. Focused. Like he'd made some decision while I was gone.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi."

"They're dressed," I said, stating the obvious.

"I helped!" Alexander shouted, mouth full of cereal. Milk dribbled down his chin.

"Alexander."

"It's not THAT much over!"

I closed my eyes. Breathed. When I opened them, Kyle was closer. Not invading my space. Just less far away.

I could see details now. His shirt collar slightly crooked. A small patch on his jaw he'd missed shaving. The pulse showing in his throat.

"You okay?" he asked. Quiet. Just for me.

"I don't know."

"Okay."

I saw his expression change. Saw his eyes drop to my mouth. Saw something raw there.

I licked my lips. Nervous habit. Automatic.

His eyes followed the movement. Tracked it. His jaw clenched tight.

Then he shook his head. Small movement.

But his eyes didn't agree. His eyes stayed on my mouth. Still watching like he wanted to—

His phone rang.

Loud in the quiet kitchen. He didn't look away from me. Didn't reach for it.

It rang again.

"You should get that," I said. My voice came out lower than usual. Rough.

"Probably."

But he still didn't move.

Ring.

"Kyle."

"Yeah."

Ring.

"Answer it."

He finally looked away. Down at his phone. At the screen.

"It's the London office," he said.

"So answer it."

He hung it up. "No."