Page 14 of Finally Found You

I can no longer hold on to that magical moment when our lips met, when the world seemed to fall away, and all that mattered was the electric connection between us.

The moment he recognizes me, his eyes widen in shock, nearly bulging out of their sockets. Glancing between Aslan and him, I venture, “Twins?”

He shakes his head. “Triplets.”

“Fun,” I deadpan, turning to the woman I first saw. “And you are the third one?”

She graces me with a warm smile and shakes her head. “Fern Spearman-McPhee.” She extends her hand. I shake it, trying to be friendly. “I’m one of their younger sisters. We can catch up after I come back.”

“Or we can just leave,” I suggest.

Kenzy quickly interjects, “Without the emancipation?” She turns to Lysander, voice wavering. “You promised.”

“It’s not that easy,” Lysander explains, his voice laced with regret. “We have to establish my paternity and then start the process. You have to be patient.”

Kenzy pouts and casts her gaze on me. “You can leave,” she concedes, her words carrying a tinge of disappointment.

Fern gives me a sympathetic smile. “We’ll be back soon.” She then shoots her brother a pointed look. “Watch your words.”

Kenzy leaves without a backward glance. Her disinterest in discussing her stunt leaves me seething with anger and frustration. When we get home, she’s going to be grounded. I swear she won’t be able to see any of her friends until she turns thirty. No phone or tablet privileges for three years. If she’s lucky, I’ll let her have dessert by the next millennium.

“Do you need me?” Aslan looks at Lysander, his tone cautious.

“Just keep this between us,” Lysander instructs, and his brother nods in silent agreement.

The moment we’re alone, memories of last night come flooding back—how I bolted from the elevator without looking back, leaving behind a man who is now unavoidably entwined in my life.

Yesterday, his gaze was that of a hunter stalking his prey, hungry and intense. Today, it’s a glare filled with animosity, as if I’m an enemy he’s about to crush. Before he can strike, I throw the first verbal punch. “You lied to her.”

“Excuse me?” he challenges, his voice icy.

“You don’t plan on giving her the emancipation.”

He takes a step back, seemingly taken aback. “I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” I interrupt, my voice firm.

“I won’t give up Kenzington just because you think that’s the easiest for you. Why would you need her?” he retorts defensively.

“Kenzy,” I correct him, anger seeping into my words. “She hates when you full name her. If you had been in her life, you would know.” I pause to sneer at him. “It’s been—what—five minutes, and you’re already the best father? Should I remind you that you rejected her before she was born? You. Don’t. Deserve. Her.”

“I didn’t know,” he mumbles, his voice faltering.

And I can’t help but scoff. “Sure, you didn’t.” I tap my temple pointedly. “I was there when Aunt Elsie came to the house, telling us how you rejected her. You didn’t want anything to do with her or your child. She cried every night. I remember hearing her. Simon, her friend, would be there for her. She would wail and cry.”

He arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “So she had a guy over at night and she was crying.”

I nod, my tone resolute. “Yes.”

“Come on. You can’t be so gullible to think they weren’t having sex.”

The frown on my face deepens, my anger bubbling dangerously beneath the surface. “No. When I asked Nonna if she was hurting, she always told me she cried because you left her.”

He narrows his gaze. “And you believe her? How old were you?”

“Almost eleven,” I say proudly, and he exhales loudly, his frustration evident.

He scrubs his face with both hands, the weight of the conversation bearing down on him. “Jesus, you’re a child, and I almost…”

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