LIVELY POV

To give myself a break from the relentless overthinking, the kind that gnaws at you when you wonder if you're truly loved by the person you've always hoped would see you. I fixed my fragile attention on the pristine ceiling above my head. I couldn't help but wonder if it was repainted constantly, because that level of perfection didn't seem achievable by cleaning alone.

"Livy, what ish two plus one mill—ion?"

"One million two?" I chuckled, sprawled on the couch where I was lying on my back.

"One mill—ion and two." He grinned at me like I'd missed something so obvious, his laughter infectious. I glanced over to find him perched on the bed, scribbling on the tablet Kyle had sent over.

We had been here two months now, at one of the world's top cancer centers in Texas. The stay had turned out better than we expected. Bubble didn't need the transplant after all, as his previous doctor had claimed. Instead, the experts here focused on management, shrinking the tumors without surgery, and Bubble responded better than we'd dared to hope. His hearing and speech had improved.

"That's smart. I should've thought of it," I said, playing along. Bubble beamed with pride that he'd just outsmarted me.

A soft knock at the door pulled me upright. "Come in," I called.

Greg walked in, arms full of grocery bags.

Greg had been our lifeline these past two months. I remembered him vaguely from San Francisco, one of Aaron's men, but now I saw him differently, kind, thoughtful, and steady. Bubble adored him, probably because this treatment room felt less like a sterile hospital and more like a small apartment. Aside from the intensive therapy equipment, there was a queen-sized bed we shared, a kitchenette tucked into one corner, and homey touches that Aaron Wallace had clearly ordered for our comfort.

"Grek, what ish one mill—ion plus two?" Bubble piped up excitedly.

Greg set the bags on the counter and pulled on a look of exaggerated thoughtfulness. "A million and two?"

"You're correct!" Bubble clapped his tiny hands, careful of the tubes taped to his arms.

"Miss Kelby," Greg said, his tone shifting slightly. "You have a visitor outside."

Curiosity dimmed the edges of my smile.

"Is it Mommy?" Bubble asked, eyes bright.

"If it were Mom, what would stop her from coming in to see you?" I said softly, forcing a faint smile as I caught Greg's subtle hesitation, one that told me exactly who it was.

"I'll be right back," I murmured, slipping on my coat. Leaning over, I kissed the soft tufts of his hair and smoothed them with my fingers. "Teach Greg some more math, okay?"

As I stepped into the hallway, the first thing I noticed was the added security guards standing tall and stoic. Then, I saw her. The hair, the posture, the distance.

Cynthia Wallace, standing several feet away.

Aaron's cousins had visited before, including Mason, whom I least expected to see. However, none of Aaron's parents had come until now.

I drew in a breath, bracing myself as I walked toward Cynthia, feeling the flashbacks creep in. The last time we'd been this close, her disdain had been so sharp it left wounds, her biting words, the sting of her hand almost connecting with my face before Aaron had stopped it.

"How's your stay here?" she asked, sliding off her gloves with deliberate movements.

"Can't complain," I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

"And him? Aaron said he's responding to treatment well?" Her tone softened awkwardly, as though the words tasted foreign in her mouth.

I had expected the doctors to discuss Bubble's progress with him. After all, he was the one footing the bills, but he hadn't gotten that information from me. Our contact had ended the night he brought Bubble back. Since then, the only form of communication was the colored book Bubble completed and Greg mailed out for Aaron's birthday last month.

"He's improving," I said to his mother as we strolled down the corridors together.

"He would be. He's a Wallace." She chuckled softly, but her laughter waned when she noticed my silence. "You and your family raised him to be strong," she added, her voice taking on a careful, measured tone.

To clarify, we still hadn't decided on the name. That conversation meant explaining to Bubble why he wasn't a Kelby, and I wasn't ready for that yet.

She paused in a quiet hallway near a group of her men and turned to face me. "If there's anything I've learned this summer, it's because of you," she began, her voice subdued yet genuine. I could see her gathering her thoughts. "You've shown me a different way of looking at life, how things can shift beyond our control in a moment."

"I don't know what to say," I admitted honestly, my throat tightening.

Words hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't be disrespectful, not when she was here, remorseful.

"Actually," she countered gently, "I'm the one who should say a lot of things. I was selfish. I became everything you must've thought of me. I wanted to protect my son, and in doing so, I went about it the wrong way, ending up hurting someone else's child instead. You were right about the boys' moms' mentality. We tend to be selfish. It's inspiring to see you stand apart from the kind of women who tear others down just to protect the flaws of their loved ones."

Her gaze didn't waver as she confessed, "In some ways, I'm grateful for what happened, even though the process was awful. It reminded me of the person I used to be."

I lowered my head, breaking eye contact, my thoughts stinging.

"I want to apologize for everything we put you through," she continued. "As a step toward making amends, I want you to know that Robert and I will protect you and Bubble as fiercely as we do Aaron. Whatever you and Aaron decide moving forward, nothing will change that."

I swallowed hard, her words pulling at something fragile inside me. Would she have felt the same if Aaron could truly have another child? I wasn't sure. But I'd always believed in forgiveness. I might not forget. The lessons life handed us were etched into our memory to guide us forward. But to heal, I needed to let go of the resentment and choose forgiveness.

"I don't expect you to feel comfortable around me anytime soon," she added, her voice tinged with guilt. "But I hope, someday, we can come close to that. I know trust takes time, and maybe I'm rushing things just by bringing it up." She laughed softly, nervously. "But I mean it. I truly am sorry."

I forced a small smile, looking at her carefully. "Would you like to see him?" I offered.

Her eyes lit up immediately, her pupils widening with visible relief. "Yes, please."

We strolled back to Bubble's room, her chatter about the hospital's facilities filling the silence. I responded with little more than a polite smile, letting her words drift past me.

Inside, the doctor was with Bubble, as was Greg, who quickly retreated the moment we approached.

"Mrs. Wallace," the doctor greeted the woman beside me, his tone polite as he stepped out of the room to give us privacy. She moved to sit on the edge of Bubble's bed, where he watched her with wide, innocent eyes.

"You look like a strong boy," she said to him warmly.

"I am."

She raised a playful brow. "And confident. You'd get along well with Thomas."

"Who ish Thomos?"

My stomach twisted, and I froze. This wasn't supposed to happen. Aaron had promised me it would be on my terms. I should stop this.

"Aaron's grandfather," Cynthia replied casually, her gaze flicking toward my uneasy expression, sharp with silent warning.

"Mangoes?" Bubble broke in, with curiosity on his face.

Her brows rose, clearly amused. "Mangoes?"

"Livy's boy—friend," he said with deliberate emphasis, and heat flooded my cheeks.

"He's not my boyfriend. Stop it, Bubble," I snapped at him under my breath, mortified.

"Buh you kiss," he frowned, clearly unimpressed by my denial.

Of all the things to argue about, it had to be this, and in front of Cynthia? Seriously?

"Stop!" I said again, my voice firm but barely holding back my embarrassment. My face burned as I struggled not to glance at Cynthia, whose smirk I could feel without even looking.

"What's this you've got here?" she intervened, deftly steering the attention away from me.

"Dinosaurs and monkeys and—and—" Bubble stammered, struggling with the words.

She leaned in, her expression soft as she studied the page. "Dragons?"

His face lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"You know," she tried to sound secretive, her tone almost saccharine, "I could visit more often if you'd like."

He beamed, entirely taken with her.

She was as manipulative as ever.

"Bubble, finish coloring that page. I'll walk Missus Wallace to the elevator," I interrupted before he could answer, earning a small sigh from her. She recovered quickly, flashing another smile as she rose.

"See you, darling," she cooed, and he waved at her before refocusing on his crayons.

Darling. Suddenly, he was her darling.

The moment the door closed behind us, I turned to her, my voice low and strained. "Aaron promised to give me space."

"Lively, Aaron is a wreck," she exhaled, her tone shifting. "The company has lost billions in less than two months under his leadership. He's...not himself and is heading toward self-destruction."

Her words hit me square in the chest, a pang of guilt tightening my throat. My gaze dropped to the floor.

When Kyle first came over to apologize for his part in what happened six years ago, he mentioned that Thomas was punishing Aaron by separating him from Keenan. Kyle said it was serious. I don't know much about it, but I know Keenan has been a big part of Aaron's life, and losing him wasn't going to be easy.

"You can hate me, punish me, even punish the entire family. I'll support you. But Aaron needs you. This is the moment where, as a mother, I admit I can't be everything for my son. I need your help," she said, her voice breaking slightly, and I fought to keep my own tears at bay, my head still inclined as her plea sank in.

She turned and walked away, and only then did I finally look up. The guards followed close behind her, stepping into the elevator.

Just as the doors began to close, she faced me one last time with a faint smile.

A few seconds passed, and then I wiped my face, took a deep breath, and went back into the room, forcing a smile. Bubble was laughing in my arms when I climbed into bed with him.

"You wanna hear a story?" I asked when he calmed down, combing my fingers through his short, soft hair.

"Yes!" He snapped his coloring book shut and turned to me, his eyes sparkling with attention.

"It's a sad story," I began, my voice gentle, "about a boy who grows stronger and finds himself surrounded by so much love."

His curiosity lit up his face. "O-kay."

"There was once a young girl and boy who met in school. They fell in love and had a child—a beautiful baby boy."

"Like Mom and Daddy... and you and mangoes?" His smile was so innocent, and I couldn't help but nod. That answer satisfied him.

"But the girl was too young, and so was the boy she loved. They both still lived under their parents' care, far away from each other, and the boy had so many responsibilities to carry, even though he was just a kid. So... they both couldn't be the parents their beautiful boy needed. And that hurt them—hurt them so much."

His little brow furrowed. "So the boo-tiful boy didn't have parents anymore?"

I stroked his cheek and shook my head. "Of course not. He was so, so loved. The girl's parents stepped in. They became his temporary parents and took care of the beautiful boy and his mom until she was ready to be the mom he needed." My voice faltered, and I paused, blinking against the burn of unshed tears.

"That's nice of them," he said with a small, thoughtful nod. "Did she ever be—come the mom he needs?"

"She's ready now," I whispered.

His tiny fingers played with the locks of my hair as he asked, "What about the boy she loved? Did he ever come back? Or is he still far away with his parents?"

"He came back," I answered. "He grew up, too, and got stronger, and now he's ready to protect his beautiful boy and the girl he never stopped loving." A faint smile tugged at my lips as my mind drifted to France, where we ran hand in hand in wet outfits down the hotel halls, leaving Robert Wallace behind as Aaron slammed the door to our room.

"So... did they ever re—onite? Did they live as daddy, mommy, and son?" His voice was soft, and hesitant, as if he sensed how much the story weighed on me.

The tears I'd tried so hard to hold back slipped free.

"Did I say something wrong, Livy?" he asked, his little face scrunching with worry.

"No," I shuddered, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Then why are you sad?" he asked, his small arms circling me protectively.

"I'm not sad," I murmured into his hair, my voice breaking. "I'm just so happy to have you in my life."

"You don't have to cry," he said with quiet confidence. "I'm happy to have you in my life, too."

His words wrapped around my heart, soothing me. I closed my eyes and sighed, holding him closer.

My parents visited sometimes, but they couldn't stay long. They had their jobs and the house to look after. Most days, it was just me, Bubble, and Greg.

We spent Halloween alone, though some of the staff surprised us. They dressed up in costumes and helped the kids on our floor visit the other patients for candy. It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. Bubble made friends with just about everyone, from the elderly patients to a nine-year-old boy named Connor, who had been discharged weeks ago. That was around the same time Bubble no longer needed his nasal cannula.

One of our favorite parts of the day was Sadie's nightly video calls after her shift at the country club. Just last month, she'd posted an unboxing video of her new content creator supplies, the ones Aaron had promised her, and it had gone viral. She said she'd made a few hundred dollars with it and was already saving up to pay Aaron back. Not that he would accept it, but I let her do her thing.

Seeing her excitement made everything feel a little lighter, even if only for a moment.

~

A/N
So, everyone, there's only one chapter left in this book, and it will be published after the holidays.

Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season. X