Tris
Arthur accepts the lemonade gratefully, and I can’t help but watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, a bead of sweat trailing down his neck and disappearing beneath his collar. I’ve never seen him like this before–dirty, sweaty, his hair mussed from work rather than styled for appearance.
I like it. I like it a lot more than I expected.
“This is good,” he says after finishing half the glass in one go. “Thank you.”
I sit beside him on the bench, maintaining a careful distance. “How’s the… plumbing going?”
“Fixed the leak upstairs and reinforced some of the joists that were getting waterlogged. Now I’m working on the back steps.” He gestures to the half–completed porch. “Some of the boards were completely rotted through. It’s a wonder no one’s fallen through yet.”
I nod, sneaking glances at him as he drinks his lemonade. There’s something undeniably attractive about a man working with his hands, creating or fixing something. Especially when that man is usually wrapped in thousand–dollar suits and signing executive orders.
“You’re staring,” Arthur says, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Just surprised to see you so…. handy.”
“I worked construction during college summers,” he explains, setting down his empty glass. “My father insisted I learn a trade, even though he knew I’d eventually go into politics. Said it would keep me humble.”
“Smart man.”
“Something like that,” Arthur says. Then, abruptly changing the subject: “Iris, about the custody battle-”
“Arthur, not now,” I cut him off with a sigh. “We’re having a nice day. Let’s not ruin it.”
He grabs my wrist as I start to rise, the sudden contact sending a jolt through me. “I’m not trying to take Miles from you. I need you to believe that. I just want to be part of his life–part of both of your lives. I want my family back.”
I look down at his hand on my wrist, then back up to his face. There’s an earnestness there that’s hard to ignore.
“If you want me to drop the custody battle,” I say carefully, “if you really want us to be a family, then prove it. Announce our matehood to the public. Stop hiding me away like I’m something shameful.”
Arthur’s grip on my wrist loosens, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, just like always. “Iris, it’s not that simple. If I publicly acknowledge you as my mate, It could put both you and Miles in danger. There are traditionalists who would never accept a human Luna, who might-”
+20 Bonus
“Stop,” I interrupt, pulling my hand free. “Just stop. It’s been the same excuse for too long. If you’re not ashamed of me, then what’s the real reason? You were willing to marry Selina in public, broadcast it to the entire country. But the idea of claiming your actual mate, your son’s mother, is somehow too dangerous just because I’m a human?”
“It’s different,” he insists, his voice dropping. “You know it’s different.”
“Yes, it is. Because I’m human. How do I know you won’t happily accept Miles in the public eye as your heir but keep me hidden forever? We’re a package deal, Arthur.” I stand up, my appetite suddenly gone. “Enjoy your sandwich. I should get back to the
mural.
I walk away before he can respond, my heart torn. Part of me understands his concerns. But another part of me, the part that spent years believing he’d essentially abandoned me, can’t help but feel like this is just another excuse.
Back in the lobby, I throw myself into my work, using the painting as an outlet for my frustration. The tree is taking shape nicely, its branches spreading wide across the wall, each handprint leaf a different color. The children are delighted with their contributions, and their enthusiasm helps lift my mood.
I’ve just finished helping a small boy add his purple handprint when Giulia approaches, watching me with a thoughtful expression on her face.
“You’ve built a beautiful family,” she says, smiling softly as she hands me a smaller brush to touch up the edges of the handprint. “You and the Alpha President and your son. It warms my heart to see how well you’ve grown up, despite everything.”
