Tachina’s soul left her body at that moment. Vic choked on air while they both just stared at their five-year-old son.
“What?” Tachina’s voice squeaked.
“Where did you hear that from?” Vic asked.
“People at the party. They kept saying it. They said my parents should just get it over with.” Kian shrugged.
“Oh my Lord.” Tachina slapped a hand on her chest. She was sure those ‘people’ were her cousins, Christina and Shondra. Those two had been on her for years to go after Vic. They were worse than Addison when it came to conversations about her unusual relationship with her son’s father.
“Some grown-ups say things they shouldn’t or talk about things they don’t understand,” Vic replied, using his Dad tone of voice.
She glanced over at him and for some reason found that way of speaking sexy. She blinked. This was not the time to be finding his dad mode to be sexy.
“I’m hungry,” Kian said, obviously done with the conversation.
She smirked. Of course food always ruled her son’s thoughts. Especially first thing in the morning.
“Let me take the two of you out for breakfast,” Vic offered casually but with something heavy beneath it.
Tachina hesitated for a moment. She was still feeling vulnerable after their conversation last night. Breakfast felt as if it made them official.
“Yay!” Kian flew forward and burrowed between them, giggling and warm.
Vic’s fingers brushed her hair from her face, and he met her gaze. His eyes offered a quiet reassurance.
Everything was going to work itself out.
“It would be nice to not have to cook for once,” she said.
Kian hopped up and jumped to celebrate.
“Good.” Vic leaned over and placed a kiss on her lips.
Her eyes widened. They had never shown affection in front of their son. Everything was moving fast between them. Vic rested an arm around her shoulders and drew her into his chest.
“Eww…Dad, why’d you kiss Mommy?” Kian stopped jumping. His face was scrunched up as he looked at them.
Tachina laughed at their son’s expression.
“Because I can.”
Vic had been the CEO of Maxwell & Sons for seven years, and yet on mornings like this, it still felt like his training wheels were on. Not because he didn’t know what he was doing—he damn well did—but because having his retired-but-ever-looming father sitting on the trustees board. How could he lead when he could almost feel the weight of someone’s legacy breathing down his neck?
The trustee meeting had just concluded. Numbers were strong, projections were better, and the Artisan Avenue project was being hailed as a visionary by investors andurban planners. The investors’ gala had raked in record-number figures. Everything was moving exactly the way he wanted since he had spent years cultivating the company after he’d taken over.
Of course, his parents followed him into his office, demanding to talk about his love life and future. The second the door shut, his mother let him know exactly what was on her mind.
“Sydney is a very nice girl, Victor. You should be more open-minded to forgiveness and a second chance,” she said.
No warm-up. No coffee. No “How have you been, son?”
Just give Sydney another chance.
“Good morning to you, too, Mother.”
They hadn’t had a chance to speak before the meeting. This was the first time they were addressing each other.
“You shut me down at Kian’s party. We need to finish it right now,” she demanded.