Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
BLAKE
-hungry eyes-
The scene before me is as peculiar as seeing the rainbow across a night sky.
Carolyn, in a butter-yellow sundress, is having a tea party with Freya.
What on earth is going on? I have a strong sense of déjà vu, as if I’ve stepped back in time when Carolyn was still pretending to care for Freya.
It never happens anymore—not in years, not since the ring slid on her finger and everything soured.
She used to, back when we were dating, in those early days at the Hamptons house, pushing Freya on the swing and laughing.
I really thought she was warm, maternal, the kind of woman who could heal the hole in our family.
It was what made me believe she would be a good mom, but she changed—pulled away like a tide going out, dismissing children's activities as "beneath her," a waste of time for someone of her status, her voice sharp when Freya got too close.
Now, seeing this, a pang hits me unexpectedly, a mix of nostalgia and confusion that tightens my throat.
My breath is still caught at the sight of the ribbons dangling from Carolyn’s fingers like forgotten promises. It's so out of place, so unlike the woman I've come to know, but I cover my astonishment, and force a neutral smile as Freya tries to get my attention.
"Daddy!" she calls so excitedly that she near stumbles over her words as she asks me to join them. The moment I set her back down, she’s tugging at my hand, her braids bouncing. "Please, Daddy? You must have tea with us!"
I hesitate and glance discreetly at my wrist watch. The conference call with Tokyo is ticking closer, and emails are stacking up in my inbox, but suddenly it doesn’t seem as important as what is happening in this sunny room.
The smile on my daughter’s face is genuine and unguarded, her cheeks flushed with delight as she pours make-believe tea for me, and I'm struck because it has been so long since I saw this—Freya happy around her stepmother, not flinching or hiding behind my legs.
Her little body is relaxed instead of tense and suspicious.
The room feels warmer for it, the sun pouring in through the windows turning her curls to gold, and the air alive with innocence and… bliss.
I turn to look at Carolyn again, really look.
The sun's rays are falling on her face, highlighting the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lashes cast shadows over those blue eyes that seem brighter, more alive than I remember.
She looks different, sure— her nose and her boobs fuller, straining against the sundress in a way that's distracting, stirring a heat in my gut that I haven't felt for her in years. But it’s not just those two things.
Something else. Can this really be the same person?
I think hard but cannot put my finger on what is off.
I can't name the shift that's making my skin prickle, my pulse quicken as she smiles softly at Freya, her lips curving in a way that's genuine, vulnerable, drawing me in like a tide I can't resist.
Freya’s chubby hands cup my cheeks, and turn my face towards her.
There is great determination in the warm, sticky palms. Her hands smell of something sweet.
I stare into her face as she informs me that they’ve been having tea with Mr. Rabbit.
She wants to know if I like her braids because they make her feel like a princess.
In the same breath, and before I can even answer her, she tells me about a secret plan they have hatched to bake chocolate cupcakes and ice them with pink icing at midnight.
Her words tumble out fast and breathless, and her eyes are sparkling with joy.
"So are you going to join us for a tea party? Please, Daddy? I’ve got a crown for you. You can be the king."
I don't have the time—the London markets are opening soon, and I have deals hanging in the balance, but how can I possibly refuse the offer of wearing a plastic gold crown and partaking in some invisible tea? Besides, I am curious about this version of Carolyn that’s got my daughter all buoyed up.
“All right,” I agree, setting Freya down gently.
“Yay,” my daughter shouts, whooping with delight, and with bossy glee pulls me towards the nest of chairs.
Freya pulls the bunny onto her lap, and I awkwardly take the newly vacated seat around the tiny table.
My knees fold uncomfortably under the plastic edge, and the chair groans under my weight like it's unamused by the giant intruding on their world. A crown is unceremoniously deposited on my head, and I see amusement slip into Carolyn’s eyes.
The sensual pull tugs harder as I watch her lean forward and pretend to adjust a bear's bow tie to hide her mirth.
But the action makes her dress dip low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts, and the sensual pull tugs harder.
Freya directs Carolyn, clapping her hands. “Give the King a cup and saucer, please, Queen Carolyn.”
Carolyn nods, her voice totally solemn and befitting the occasion, "Of course, Princess Freya."
Carolyn’s hand extends across the table as she passes the colorful teacup and saucer to me. Our fingers touch, skin brushing skin, and she jumps at the sudden electric rush. Her flinch is visible even to Freya.
“What’s the matter, Queen Carolyn?” Freya asks, when Carolyn retracts her hand as if burned.
Color floods Carolyn cheeks. "Sorry. Someone must have walked over my grave,” she mutters, avoiding my eyes.
Freya frowns. “What?”
“Nothing, Princess Freya. Perhaps you could ask the King if he will have some cookies with his tea.”
Freya forgets her question and picks up a plate of plastic cookies. I take one and pretend to bite into it while sipping from the miniature cup. “Mmmm… very tasty.”
Carolyn smiles to herself, then completely ignores me and focuses on her own cup of tea.
I feel as though she is trying to calm down, but can’t.
I watch her fidget, uneasily crossing and uncrossing her legs under the tiny table.
Her bare foot accidentally brushes my calf once.
It sends an electric jolt through me and hardens my cock instantly.
I shift to hide my arousal, but I continue to watch her throughout.
My curiosity has turned into something hotter, my gaze tracing the flush climbing her neck, the way the sundress shifts with her breaths, nipples peaking against the fabric in the room's gentle breeze.
It is a small shock when my phone buzzes in my pocket—a call from outside my girl’s dinky little world. It must be the office. The vibration is insistent against my thigh. A reminder of the real world. In the end, I answer, but keep it brief.
"Hold it—I'll call back in ten."
Pulling the crown off my head, I rise to my feet, knees cracking from the difficult crouch.
I turn to Carolyn, my voice steady, though my gaze lingers on the way the sundress rides up her thigh. "Could you keep your calendar clear on Friday night? It’s a boring charity event, but the board expects us to attend together."
“Sure.” She nods dutifully and lowers her head.
Hmm…she didn’t make faces and didn’t ask who would be there.
I lean down to kiss Freya, her cheek soft and sticky.
"Thank you for tea, princess." Then I lean down to kiss Carolyn.
A habit that died years ago, but I want to see how she reacts.
My lips brush her forehead. Her skin is warm under my lips and I again smell the subtle difference. Yes, the perfume is the same, but…
I see the goosebumps that break out across her arms, prickling like a shiver in the sun-warmed room, and her breath hitches audibly.
Her chest rises and falls fast. That’s strange.
We bear our interactions with politeness that only we know masks a dead relationship.
Why is she suddenly breaking out in goose pimples and acting like her heart is about to jump out of her chest at my mere presence?
It stirs me, that reaction, as I straighten. I leave the room with more questions than when I entered. The door clicks shut behind me, and her delectable scent lingers on my lips.