Chapter 6 - The Taste of Vanilla
Two years later.
The summer sun shone bright and warm over the manicured gardens of the Gold Coast estate, sparkling off the blue waters of Lake Michigan.
The grand lawn was set up with white silk tents, fresh hydrangeas, and long tables laden with incredible pastries, towering cake stands, and iced chamomile tea. Over two hundred guests—business leaders, city officials, my mother, my sister, and the entire domestic staff—filled the gardens with laughter and music.
It was our official wedding anniversary.
I stood near the edge of the stone patio wearing a simple, elegant ivory silk dress, holding a glass of sparkling peach bellini.
My mother sat nearby in a comfortable armchair, looking healthy and vibrant, chatting happily with Mrs. Gable about garden flowers. My sister was laughing near the dessert table, showing one of the security guards a video on her phone.
Across the green lawn, nine-year-old quadruplets were in the middle of an intense, chaotic game of backyard soccer.
Noah was guarding the makeshift goalposts with absolute focus. Eli was dribbling the ball with wild speed. Theo was dramatically pretending to be a professional sports commentator, yelling into a toy microphone.
And Lucas... Lucas was sitting on the grass near the edge of the field, holding a tiny white bunny that Marco had bought him for his birthday, gently stroking its soft ears.
"You're ignoring your guests, Mrs. Sterling," a low, smooth voice whispered in my ear.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling my back flush against a broad, warm chest.
I leaned back against Alexander, smiling as he rested his chin on my shoulder, his dark hair brushing against my neck.
"I'm not ignoring them," I turned my head to kiss his cheek. "I'm supervising my restaurant operations. The dessert table is running low on vanilla cardamom tarts."
"I'll fire the pastry chef," Alexander murmured playfully, his hands resting comfortably over my waist.
"You wouldn't dare," I laughed, turning in his arms to face him. "She's the owner's wife. And she carries an iron skillet."
Alexander laughed—a deep, rich sound that filled my heart with warmth every single time I heard it. He looked down at me, his dark eyes soft and overflowing with a love so deep it still took my breath away.
"Claire?" a small voice called out.
We both turned.
Lucas was standing beside us on the patio, holding his small white bunny under one arm, looking up at us with his dark, expressive eyes.
I immediately crouched down to his eye level, smoothing his hair back. "What is it, Lucas?"
"Theo kicked the ball into the rose bushes," Lucas whispered, pointing across the lawn where his three brothers were currently arguing over who had to crawl into the thorns. "Can you come fix it?"
I looked at Alexander, who offered me a warm, knowing smirk.
"Duty calls, Mrs. Sterling," Alexander said, offering me his hand and lifting me back to my feet.
I took his hand, linking my fingers through his, while keeping my other hand resting gently on Lucas's shoulder as we walked together down the stone steps into the sunlit garden.
As I looked at my husband, my four sons, and the beautiful, noisy, incredible life we had built from thirty seconds of fake motherhood in a quiet tea shop, I realized that $517.43 hadn't been the end of my story.
May you like
It had been the exact price of finding my home.
(The End)
