Page 10 of Fake Lemons Love and Luxury

SEAN

I wake before my alarm, a lifetime habit from military training that civilian life hasn't erased. The house is quiet. Through my bedroom window, the first traces of dawn paint the sky in watercolor strokes.

I push myself out of bed, trying not to think about kissing Wren’s forehead some nights ago. About Wren breaking down in my car. About how she fit in my arms. About the unprofessional way, I crossed the line with that kiss. About how my gaze lingered on her lips.

This is my new routine since that little forehead kiss three nights ago.

I wake up and the first thing I see is Wren’s face.

It’s the last thing I see before my body succumbs to sleep as well.

Now, I want to push it out of my mind and fill my thoughts with other things.

Think of business. Of how beautiful dawn is at this time.

I yawn, making my way to the kitchen.

There, I start the coffee maker. Strong. Black. Simple. Unlike everything else in my life right now.

A miniature Superman sits on the counter. One of Eric's toys. I pick it up, turning it over in my hand, smiling despite myself. The kid’s got them everywhere.

It’s easy to notice the small things around their little family. The toy truck left in the yard, half buried in the dirt. The way her day bends around Eric’s bedtime. The glow from her bedroom window long after midnight.

Wren lives like someone waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I’m not good with kids anymore. That part of my life ended a long time ago. But Eric is easy. He likes dinosaurs and making slime and he thinks there’s a night monster under his bed but his night light keeps it away.

I smile, watching the coffee brew, the aroma filling the kitchen.

The sound of running water tells me Wren is awake. She'll come downstairs soon, hair still damp, wearing one of those silk shirts that make her look so lovely. I hope she wears that butter yellow one that makes her look like summer itself with that fitted skirt that accentuates her figure.

I brush a hand through my hair, scoffing.

“She won’t be doing that and I should stop daydreaming,” I murmur to myself.

Since that night, she's been treating me with careful professionalism. Tight smiles. Quick answers. Like she’s trying to build a wall brick by brick between us. I let her.

Her message is clear even without words: That was a mistake. Won't happen again.

Fine by me. I set boundaries for a reason.

So why do I keep replaying that moment in the car?

I hear her footsteps on the stairs. I pour myself a cup of coffee, savoring the aroma before drinking. Before turning to see her in a butter yellow silk shirt and that same skirt I fancy very much on her. I suck in a breath, twirling my cup, trying not to notice her cleavage.

“Good morning,” she says with a small smile before walking past me. I catch a whiff of her soft vanilla scent.

I clear my throat.

“Good morning. Care for some?”

“Yes, please.”

I pour her a cup. Black with one sugar, just how she likes it.

“You’ve been up all night, haven't you?”

“I'm fine.”

“Those dark circles under your eyes say otherwise.”

She reaches for the mug, her fingers brushing mine. A tingle of electricity rushes through my finger.

“Nothing some concealer won’t fix.”

“You work too hard.”

Our eyes hold for a moment. Her cherry lips part.

Eric bounds into the kitchen then, a dinosaur backpack dragging behind him. “Mom! I can't find my T-Rex socks!”

“Check under your bed, honey. That's where all missing things go to hide.” She ruffles his hair as he zooms past.

I watch her with her son, the softness in her eyes. The gentleness. It's a stark contrast to the businesswoman the world sees. Few people get to witness this side of her.

We prepare breakfast in silence.

Eric asks as he appears again in the doorway. “But can I bring Rex to school today?”

“Honey, we talked about this. Special toys stay home where they're safe.”

“But Uncle Sean says Rex is tough.”

She sighs. Her eyes meet mine for a moment before sliding away. I smile to myself.

“Uncle Sean! Look what I found yesterday!” Eric holds up a rock shaped like a heart. “It's for my collection.”

I crouch down to his level. “That's a good one. Where'd you find it?”

“In the yard. Near the tree.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think it's magic.”

“Yeah? What kind of magic?”

“The kind that makes people happy.” He glances at his mother, then back to me. “Mom needs happy magic right now.”

My chest tightens. Kids see everything.

I ruffle his hair. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Eric.”

“Breakfast is ready,” Wren announces, setting plates of scrambled eggs and toast on the table. Her movements are precise and efficient. The distance between us feels wider than the kitchen.

Eric climbs into his chair, reaching for the ketchup. Wren doesn't even try to stop him anymore. Some battles aren't worth fighting.

I watch her when she's not looking. The shadows under her eyes. The tension in her shoulders. The way she checks her phone every thirty seconds.

She's built her entire life around being her son's rock. Her schedule revolves around his needs—bedtime stories, school drop-offs, weekend pancakes. But who's her rock?

That night, for just a moment, I thought maybe...

My phone rings. Jen’s face flashes on the screen.

I answer.

Jen’s voice barrels out.

“Have you seen it yet?”

I frown.

“Seen what.”

“BuzzTab news this morning?”

“You know I don't read that trash.”

“Well, you're in it.”

“What?” I ask, puzzled.

“There are pictures. Of you and Wren. In your car some nights ago.” Her voice has that tone of half concern, half fascination. “You're holding her, dad.”

I feel a cold dread settling in my stomach now. “What?”

Wren's phone starts buzzing. She checks the screen and her face goes pale.

“Talia,” she mouths to me.

“Check your email. Now.”

I hang up and swipe open my inbox.

The headline punches me in the gut.

SECRET LOVERS? CEO WREN SINCLAIR CAUGHT CANOODLING WITH MYSTERY MAN.

Wren's voice is tight. “What pictures?” A pause. “When? How?”

Another pause. “I'll be there in twenty.”

She hangs up, her eyes wide with panic.

“Someone got photos of us. In the car. Last night.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “They're saying we're... together.”

“Damn it.” I grab my phone. Jen has sent me other gossip site links about the news. I open another.

There we are. The images are grainy, taken through the rain-streaked window of my car, but clear enough. Me holding Wren against my chest. My lips pressed to her forehead.

My jaw clenches as I read the headline: “HOLLYWOOD’S MOST PRIVATE BEAUTY QUEEN'S ROMANCE UNRAVELED: Who Is Wren Sinclair Hiding?”

My mind is racing. This is bad. Very bad.

“I'll take Eric to school,” I say. “You get to the office.”

She nods, already moving, grabbing her bag, and her keys.

“Mom?” Eric's voice is small. “Are you okay?”

She stops, and kneels in front of him. “I'm fine, baby. Just busy with work. Sean's going to take you to school today, okay?”

He nods, those big brown eyes so serious.

Twenty minutes later, I'm helping Eric out of my car in front of his elementary school. His superhero backpack looks too big for his small frame.

“Uncle Sean?” He tugs on my hand.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Is my mom in trouble? The kids at school say bad things are happening to her company.”

Christ. My heart twists for this kid. For Wren.

“Your mom's company is doing great,” I say, crouching to his eye level. “Sometimes grown-ups say mean things about each other. But your mom is smart and strong. She's just busy making a new product that's going to help a lot of people.”

He studies my face, looking for any hint of a lie. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

He nods like he understands, and runs toward the school entrance. I watch until he's inside.

Back in my car, I slam my hand against the steering wheel. What was I thinking? I'm supposed to be protecting her, not creating more problems. I should have known the paps would catch on. I should have never let her get pulled into my orbit.

One moment of being vulnerable and now there's more fuel for the fire.

This is why I keep my distance. This is why I don't get personal. Every time I let down my guard, someone gets hurt.

The buzzing of my phone interrupts my self-flagellation. It's a text from Wren.

“Talia wants to meet at the office ASAP.”

I start the car, dreading whatever's waiting for me. Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like it.