The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 490

Mia's POV

What kind of person kisses someone's ear?

Seriously. What kind of person does that?

A normal person would kiss your cheek. Or your forehead. Or—if they're feeling bold—your mouth. Those are the options.

Who does that?

I touch my ear again.

Damn him.

The water starts to run cold. I turn it off. Step out. Wrap myself in a towel.

The mirror is fogged now. I wipe a circle clear with my palm and look at my face again. Better. Cleaner. Still tired, but at least I look like a person now instead of a cautionary tale about mixing champagne and tequila.

I should just get dressed. Something simple. Jeans and a sweater. Mom clothes. Amusement park clothes.

But my hand is reaching for the makeup bag.

Just a little, I tell myself. Just enough to look awake. Just mascara. Just concealer for the dark circles. Just—

I'm doing a full face.

The realization hits me halfway through blending foundation. I've got primer on. Primer. For an amusement park. Like I'm going to a photoshoot instead of standing in line for the teacups with three small children.

What am I doing?

But I don't stop. My hands keep moving—automatic, practiced, doing things they haven't done in months. Bronzer. Highlighter. That lipstick I bought on a whim and never wore because it seemed too bold for everyday life.

The woman in the mirror is someone I barely recognize. Not the tired mother who usually looks back at me. Someone else. Someone who looks like she slept eight hours and drank green smoothies and never cried on anyone's shoulder at 2 AM.

"Mama?"

I spin.

Alexander is standing in the bathroom doorway. Pajamas with dinosaurs on them. Hair sticking up in seventeen different directions. That expression of profound confusion that five-year-olds get when they discover adults doing something unexpected.

"Baby." I press a hand to my chest. My heart is racing. "You scared me."

"Why are you putting on your face?"

"My—what?"

"Your face." He points at my face. At the makeup. "You're putting on your face. You only do that for fancy things. Are we doing a fancy thing?"

"No, I just—" I look at myself in the mirror. At the bronzer and the highlighter and the lipstick that's definitely too much for a Saturday at an amusement park. "—I just felt like it."

Alexander considers this. His head tilts. That gesture he has—the one he got from Ethan, the one that makes him look like a small professor examining a specimen.

"Is it because Daddy's coming?"

The question lands somewhere in my chest. Sharp. Direct. The way children's questions always are.

"No."

"You look different." He takes a step into the bathroom. Then another. His bare feet padding against the tile. "You look like—like when you used to get ready for something."

He shrugs. A small movement. "And you smell different. And your face was shiny. And you always wore the sparkly things in your ears." His eyes move to my ears now. Currently bare. No sparkly things. "Where are the sparkly things?"

"I don't—I don't wear those anymore."

"Why?"

"Because—" I stop. Take a breath. "—because I don't go to parties anymore."

"But you went to a party last night."

"That was different."

"How?"

"It just was."

Alexander is quiet for a moment. That unusual stillness he gets sometimes—so unlike his normal energy, so focused and intent.

"Mama," he says finally. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, baby."

"I think you look pretty." He says it simply. Matter-of-factly. Like he's stating a law of physics rather than paying a compliment. "Really pretty. Like a princess. Like the princesses in Madison's books."

My eyes are stinging.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"You're welcome." He nods. Satisfied. Then his face changes—that lightning-fast shift from serious to excited that only children can do. "Also I'm HUNGRY! Can we get donuts? The ones with sprinkles? Donuts have HOLES which makes them basically ZERO calories—"

"Alexander."

"—Ethan told me that's not how calories work but Ethan is WRONG because the hole part has NO calories, that's just MATH—"

"Alexander."

"—WHAT?"

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