Page 57 of Filthy Rich Temptation

Rebuilding.

That’s what this feels like… a step towards something meaningful and mine.

‘Hey, why don’t we swap numbers and we can fix up a time? Here…’ Joshua’s mum says, pulling out her phone and handing it to me. ‘Stick your details in there. My name’s Rachael, this is Charlene. We live just around the corner.’

‘I’m Sadie. I’m staying in the flats next door.’

‘How perfect! Maybe you can talk us into running with you one day.’

Charlene laughs. ‘Steady on, Rach!’

I grin as I punch in my details and hand the phone back to her.

‘So you’ll come?’ she says.

‘Yeah, I reckon so. It’ll be good for Lottie to have some friends to play with.’

‘You’re new to the area?’ Charlene asks, clearly assuming that’s why my daughter doesn’t have any yet.

I swallow the pang of regret and nod. ‘Recently moved back.’

‘Well, consider us your welcome-back crew,’ Rachael says with a grin. ‘It’s great for the kids to have friends, but I reckon us parents need it more.’

‘Amen to that,’ Charlene adds. ‘Mental health 101: surround yourself with other parents, people who just get it.No long explanations required, no judgement, just mutual madness.’

‘Yeah…’ I say automatically, chuckling along.

Not that I’d know. The last real conversation I had with another parent was back in the maternity ward, just after Lottie was born.

But if an afternoon escaping the rain at soft play means getting out of the apartmentandgiving Theo some space to work in peace, it has to be worth pushing through the nerves for.

And if it gives Lottie and me another slice of normal, then all the better.

I leave the café twenty minutes later, juggling two takeaway cups, the soft play leaflet, and a pastry box so heavy, I half-expect it to collapse in my hands. I’d love to say it’s to give Theo some choice, but really, I couldn’t decide. My appetite’s finally woken up, and it wants to sample everything.

I snagged a cinnamon swirl, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisin, almond croissant, a bear claw for Lottie, and something extra sticky with pecans that looked so outrageously indulgent, it made me think of Theo and everything he’s done for us.

Because he didn’t have to make space for us. He didn’t have to let Lottie take over his living room, one pirate mutiny at a time. Or spend half his Sunday flying around a rose garden just to humour us. He didn’t have to turn into some pseudo-therapist, drawing me out of myself and encouraging me to live again. But he did.

And simply saying thank you will never feel enough.

When the elevator slides open, there’s laughter already – Theo’s voice high-pitched and ridiculous, Lottie cheering. My heart cheers with her.This. This is what coming home should sound like.

I step out and call, ‘I come bearing gifts!’

Theo appears in the hallway, his once crisp shirt now wrinkled, a rainbow sticker on his chest, a sparkly unicorn grinning on his cheek, and somehow he’s never been sexier.

It’s pointless trying to deny it, so I don’t.

His green eyes twinkle as they narrow on my haul. ‘Did you… go to Becca’s?’

I nod, my smile widening with his. ‘I did.’ I offer it out like the prized achievement it is. ‘Carbs. And caffeine. For your valiant service.’

‘My valiant service?’ He slaps a hand to his chest, humour flickering into something deeper, more sincere. ‘Don’t you mean yours?’

We share a moment, one that tells me he knows. He sees me. Sees what this small gesture truly means.

Then Lottie barrels onto the scene. ‘Mummy-Mummy! We made princess toast!’