The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 487

Mia's POV

He's looking at me with that expression. That one that breaks something inside me every time I see it. The one that makes me want to hit him and hold him and run away all at the same time.

"I'm just saying that next time," he finishes. "If there is a next time. In the dream or in real life. Call me. Please. Actually call me. And I promise—I swear to you—I will hear you. And I will turn around."

The silence stretches again. But it's different now. Softer. Less like a wall and more like a bridge.

I wrap my arms around myself. His coat shifting with the movement, the collar brushing against my jaw. I should give it back to him. He must be cold. Just his thin grey t-shirt against the October night.

But I don't move to take it off. And he doesn't ask for it.

"It's late," I say finally. The words inadequate. Meaningless. But something to fill the space.

"Yes."

Kyle's mouth curves. Just barely. That almost-smile that used to drive me crazy when we were married. That still does.

"Tomorrow," he says.

The word hangs there. Waiting.

"Tomorrow what?"

He takes a breath. I watch his chest expand, then contract. Watch the small cloud his exhale makes in the cold air.

"We should take them somewhere," he says. "The kids. All three of them."

"Take them where?"

"The amusement park," he says. "There's one upstate. I've seen advertisements. The kids would love it. The rides. The cotton candy. All of it. We could leave early, spend the whole day—"

"Celebrating what?"

Kyle is looking at the water again. His jaw tight. That muscle jumping. His hands have found the railing, fingers wrapped around the cold metal like he needs something to hold onto.

"When I was a child," he says slowly. "I always wanted to go. I used to see the commercials. On TV. All those families. The spinning rides. The stuffed animals. The way the children were laughing, and the parents were laughing, and everyone was—" He stops. Swallows. I watch his throat move. "—everyone was together. Happy. In this simple, uncomplicated way."

A car passes somewhere behind us. The headlights sweep across the pavement, throwing long shadows before disappearing.

"I used to ask," Kyle continues. "Every year. I'd pick a park. Make a plan. Figure out the best routes, the best days, the best times. Present it to my mother like a business proposal because I thought—" A small, humorless laugh. "—I thought if I was organized enough, if I made it easy enough, maybe she'd say yes."

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