Chapter 696 After the Breakup, They Found Peace 3
By the time Avery left the office with Maggie, the sun was already sinking toward the horizon, spilling molten gold across the streets. The air outside was warm, touched with the faint sweetness of blooming flowers — the kind of scent that made you slow your steps without realizing it.
A soft breeze brushed past, carrying the fragrance along. A single white pear blossom had bent low over the roof of his black Bentley, its petals as delicate as fresh snow.
Maggie reached for it, her little arms stretching in vain. Avery plucked it with ease, the stem snapping softly between his fingers, and placed it in her small palm.
She gasped as if he had given her treasure. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
Something in his chest — a place he thought had long since hardened — gave way, quietly, almost imperceptibly.
Once in the car, Maggie's voice turned coaxing, almost conspiratorial.
"Daddy, I want a kids meal. My nanny says other kids go with their mom and dad to eat kids meals. I want to go too."
Right now, Avery thought, if she asked for the moon, he would find a way to bring it down to her.
"All right," he said, fastening his seatbelt, his tone indulgent.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside a restaurant.
Avery stepped out, unbuckled Maggie, and lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
In his tailored suit, carrying a doll-like little girl, he drew more than a few stares. He ignored them.
He was about to step inside when his gaze froze.
Through the glass of the bridal boutique next door, he saw her.
Isadora.
She was wearing a pure white gown by a renowned designer, the silk hugging her figure in all the right places. Tobias's hand rested possessively on her waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles.
The sight hit Avery like a punch to the ribs.
He could not look away. Not until Maggie cupped his face in her tiny hands and asked, "Daddy, what are you looking at?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. "Come on, let's get that kids meal."
She cheered, and he held her tighter, stealing one last glance over his shoulder.
Isadora stood beside Tobias, looking every bit the perfect match. There was a quiet, composed smile on her lips.
Avery did not know if she loved Tobias, but she certainly did not dislike him. A woman's body language never lied.
The familiar ache twisted in his chest.
Inside the boutique, Isadora's gaze drifted toward the street — and met his.
It hurt.
She had never truly longed for marriage with Avery, but he was the only man who had ever left an indelible mark on her soul. And now, their child was resting on his shoulder.
Her eyes burned. She felt a flicker of something dangerously close to regret.
A pane of glass separated them. He stood outside, and she stood inside, dressed to marry another man. She did not know who to blame for that.
Tobias had noticed Avery too — and the shimmer in Isadora's eyes. He was too perceptive not to recognize the emotion there.
Quietly, he said, "What I told you on the phone still stands. You could walk out right now and go to him."
Fear flickered in her. She shook her head.
At a certain age, love was not always the priority. Stability was.
She smiled faintly through her tears.
It was the kind of look that could break two hearts at once.
Avery turned and walked into the restaurant.
Isadora drew a breath, then said to Tobias, "Go change into the suit. I'll see if the fit is right. If not, there's still time for alterations."
Tobias was a considerate man. He took a tissue and gently brushed away her tears, his fingers lingering for the briefest moment near her skin. Her delicate, luminous features caught the light, and something in his chest shifted — a quiet, undeniable pull.
He liked Isadora. Otherwise, marriage would never have crossed his mind.
She tilted her head, meeting his eyes. Sometimes, the right people simply fit. Even years later, she would still think of Tobias as a man worth marrying.
He followed the attendant to the dressing room.
He had just changed into the crisp shirt and tailored trousers when his phone rang. His son's voice came through, panicked, "Dad, Mom fainted."
Tobias's chest tightened.
He had already heard whispers about Ivy's illness, but he had not expected bad news this soon.
He pressed for details, and Eugene's voice cracked as he explained, "Last night, she was calling your name in her sleep."
Tobias and Ivy had not divorced over betrayal — just neglect. Work had consumed him, and their marriage had withered. But they had shared good years once.
Now, both his son's fear and his own sense of responsibility told him he had to go. He knew it was unfair to Isadora — their wedding was barely a month away.
When he told her, it was hard for him to speak. But she understood.
She did not offer dramatic words. She simply took his hand and said, "Have your secretary arrange a jet. Right now, they both need you."
She knew the kind of illness Ivy faced. The odds were grim.
Tobias swallowed hard. He promised he would be back in a week. He promised it would not delay the wedding. He told her she mattered to him.
Isadora smiled faintly.
He left without even changing out of the brand-new suit. Store policy meant the outfit had to be purchased, so Isadora paid the $260,000 bill herself.
With no groom, there was no reason to linger. After changing and removing her makeup, she stepped out into the darkening street an hour later. The black Bentley was still parked outside.
She did not plan to approach.
She wanted to walk alone for a while. But before she could take more than a step, the driver's door opened and Avery's voice drifted out, low and lazy, "Get in."
She startled.
She did not want entanglement with him. But from the back seat came Maggie's soft, sweet call, "Mommy."
For Maggie's sake, she hesitated — then slid into the car.
Avery passed a burger over his shoulder. It was massive, stacked with beef and cheese.
Isadora took it, speechless.
"Relax," Avery said dryly. "One burger won't keep you from fitting into your wedding dress. But speaking of — why did Tobias leave? Cold feet already?"
She bit into the burger, smirking. "Not your business."
In the rearview mirror, his eyes lingered on her, studying.
He eased the car forward, the last streaks of sunset fading into violet and black.
Maggie sang off-key in the back seat, her little voice filling the quiet.
The car moved slowly, deliberately. Isadora kept eating.
Maggie handed her a cup of soda, chirping, "Daddy says you're too skinny to fill out your dress."
Isadora thought, 'He's doing this on purpose!'
Avery's quiet chuckle carried something she could not name.
They drove two loops around the city before Avery finally turned toward her neighborhood. On the way, he asked about her mother.
"She's fine," Isadora said. "Just still adjusting."
"Take her out more," Avery replied. "Evergreen City's changed a lot. You've changed a lot too."
She ignored that last part.
From the back seat, Maggie piped up. "Daddy's changed too!"
The air shifted.
Isadora expected him to let it drop. Instead, he said with a hint of mock sadness, "Had to. Otherwise, girls wouldn't like me."
"Maggie will always like Daddy," the little girl declared.
Avery's gaze flicked to Isadora in the mirror, a trace of triumph there. She thought him childish, but she could not deny they were more civil now than they had been in years.
Even the best moments have an ending.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up outside her villa.
Silence filled the car.
"Thanks for the ride," Isadora said softly. "If Maggie wants, she can stay with you a few more days. And—"
"Clear your schedule the day after tomorrow," Avery cut in, eyes on the dark road. "Her preschool entrance interview. Both parents have to be there. And tell your mother I said hello."
His tone was warm, but businesslike.
Isadora nodded. "Alright. I'll pick her up after."
Maggie's voice turned wistful. "I want to sleep with Mommy and Daddy together."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history.
They had been lovers once — enough times to bring Maggie into the world. Every memory came rushing back with that innocent remark.
Avery's eyes darkened. His throat worked once, twice.