Chapter 193
Evelyn's POV
Aria's squeal of delight was loud enough to make Ghost, who'd been napping in a patch of sunlight, lift her head to glare at us all. Julian sighed, moving to sit on the arm of the couch beside me, his hand finding the back of my neck in that possessive way he had.
"You're creating a monster," he said to Adrian. "You know that, right?"
"A spoiled monster," I added, but I was smiling as I watched Aria tear into the bag with enthusiasm that was both endearing and slightly concerning.
When she pulled out the tea set—delicate ceramic cups and saucers decorated with hand-painted butterflies—her eyes went wide with wonder. "It's so pretty," she breathed, holding up one of the cups like it was made of diamonds. "Can we have tea right now?"
"We can have pretend tea," I said. "With juice instead of actual tea."
"And cookies?" Aria asked hopefully.
"And cookies," Adrian confirmed, because of course he'd thought to bring cookies too.
Julian made a sound of disgust, but he was already standing, moving toward the kitchen to get juice and the cookies that I knew were hidden in the pantry. I watched him go, then looked back at Aria, who was arranging the tea set on the coffee table with intense concentration.
"Thank you, Uncle Adrian," she said, then climbed back into Adrian's lap to give him a hug that made his expression go soft in a way that reminded me why I'd fallen in love with him once upon a time.
This was my life now—watching my daughter charm everyone around her with the same ruthless efficiency her father used in business negotiations, watching Adrian spoil her rotten despite Julian's protests, watching Julian pretend to be annoyed while secretly loving every minute of it.
When Julian came back with juice and cookies, Aria immediately abandoned Adrian to climb into his lap instead, pressing a kiss to his cheek that made his fake annoyance melt away completely.
"She's playing you both," I said, settling beside Julian on the couch. "And you're both letting her."
"She's two," Julian said, pressing a kiss to Aria's hair. "She's allowed to play us."
"For now," I agreed. "But when she's sixteen and trying to play us against each other to get a car, we're going to remember this conversation."
"When she's sixteen, I'm locking her in a tower," Julian said. "No boys, no cars, no leaving the house."
"That's not how parenting works," I said.
"It's how my parenting works," Julian said firmly, and Aria giggled like this was the funniest thing she'd ever heard.
Adrian watched us with an expression I couldn't quite read—something fond and wistful and maybe a little sad—and I reached over to squeeze his hand.
"Thank you for the tea set," I said quietly. "She really does love it."
"I know," Adrian said. "That's why I bought it."
---
Three years old
Aria's third birthday party was everything Julian had promised it would be—excessive, over-the-top, and completely perfect.
The estate's back garden had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale, with white tents, strings of lights, and enough flowers to supply a small wedding. There was a bouncy castle shaped like a palace, a petting zoo with actual baby animals, and a dessert table that looked like it had been designed by someone who'd never heard the word "restraint."
And in the middle of it all was Aria, wearing a white dress with layers of tulle and a small crown that Adrian had given her—a delicate thing made of silver and set with tiny diamonds that caught the afternoon sunlight.
"She looks like a princess," Isabella said from beside me, watching Aria run across the lawn with a pack of children from her playgroup. "A very spoiled princess."
"She is spoiled," I agreed, but there was no heat in it. "Everyone spoils her."
"Can you blame them?" Isabella asked. "Have you seen her face when she smiles? It's like looking at the sun."
I couldn't argue with that. Aria had inherited the best of both Julian and me—his intensity and charisma, my eyes and bone structure—and the combination was devastating. She knew it too, had figured out early on how to use her charm to get exactly what she wanted from whoever she wanted it from.
"She's a menace," I said fondly. "But she's our menace."
"Uncle Adrian!" Aria's voice carried across the lawn, and I turned to see her running toward where Adrian was standing near the dessert table, talking to some of the other parents. "Uncle Adrian, look what I can do!"
She proceeded to do a cartwheel that was more enthusiasm than technique, landing in a heap of white tulle and grass stains. Adrian immediately moved to help her up, brushing off her dress with the careful attention of someone who'd done this a thousand times before.
"That was very impressive," he said seriously. "Have you been practicing?"
"Daddy taught me," Aria said proudly. "He said I'm a natural athlete."
"Your daddy is biased," Adrian said, but he was smiling. "But he's also probably right."
Aria beamed at him, then threw her arms around his waist in a hug that made something in my chest ache. Adrian had been a constant presence in her life since birth—showing up for birthdays and holidays, babysitting when Julian and I needed a night out, spoiling her with gifts and attention in a way that suggested he was trying to make up for something.
"I love you, Uncle Adrian," Aria said, her voice muffled against his shirt. "Can I have another piece of cake?"
"You already had two pieces," Adrian said.
"But it's my birthday," Aria pointed out with irrefutable logic. "I should get as much cake as I want on my birthday."
"That's not how it works," Adrian started, but I could see him weakening. Aria could see it too, because her smile got wider and she deployed the ultimate weapon—the puppy dog eyes.
"Please?" she said. "Pretty please with sugar on top?"
Adrian looked at me helplessly, and I shook my head, trying not to laugh. "You're the one who spoils her," I said. "You deal with the consequences."
"Fine," Adrian said, defeated. "But just one more piece. And then no more sugar for the rest of the day."
"Deal!" Aria said, already running toward the dessert table.
"You're too easy on her," Julian said, appearing at my elbow with two glasses of champagne. "She's going to be insufferable by the time she's five."
"She's already insufferable," I said, accepting the champagne. "But in the best possible way."
We watched Aria charm her way into not one but two more pieces of cake, watched her run back to Adrian with chocolate frosting on her face, watched Adrian wipe it off with his handkerchief while trying to look stern and failing completely.
"He's good with her," Julian said quietly.
"He is," I agreed.
"Better than I expected him to be," Julian continued. "Given everything."
I knew what he meant. Adrian had every reason to hate Aria—she was the physical proof that I'd chosen Julian over him, that I'd built a life with someone else. But instead, he loved her fiercely, showed up for every birthday and holiday, treated her like she was his own.
"He's a good man," I said.
"He is," Julian agreed. "Even if he does give her too much cake."
The End.