Chloe sat stiffly at the dining table, fingers curling around the edge of her napkin, watching.
Carter chewed his food, eyes bright, posture relaxed—comfortable. Too comfortable.
The way he turned toward Kian, acknowledging him, speaking to him—it wasn't forced. It wasn't hesitant.
It was easy.
And that unsettled her.
Because Kian Ashford wasn't supposed to fit into their dynamic.
He wasn't supposed to slip in effortlessly like he belonged here.
But Carter? He didn't have those walls.
He didn't have the years of history, the weight of heartbreak, the memories Chloe had shoved so deep down she barely acknowledged them anymore.
And as Carter spoke, as Kian responded smoothly, effortlessly, the discomfort pressed into her ribs.
She wasn't supposed to feel this.
She wasn't supposed to see this—witness her son finding ease in someone she once loved, once left.
And yet—here they were.