Mark clasped Edwinâs hand and shared a parting ki*s with Olivia, who eagerly reciprocated.
âWeâre heading out,â Mark murmured, his warm breath grazing Ceciliaâs ear, eliciting a slight shiver.
Her eyes lifted to meet his.
He raised a hand, gently caressing her shoulder and back, his voice a soft prompt.
âTry to get some rest.
â
Before she could muster a retort, Mark had whisked Edwin away.
Descending the stairs, they encountered Korbyn.
Mark greeted him politely.
Korbyn, sipping his tea with a leisurely air, remarked with a smirk, âHearing you this humble feels odd.
But after your near-daily visits?
âs BunnyBookery
Thatâs better now I guess.
â
Though not a fan of Mark, Korbyn harbored a deep affection for Edwin.
He beckoned the boy over with a wave, ruffling his hair and planting a ki*s atop his head.
As Mark departed, Korbynâs final words carried a laden meaning.
âCeciliaâs no spring chicken.
There are certain matters neither her mother nor I need fret over.
But just remember, as long as weâre here, no oneâs going to take advantage of her and get away with it.
â
The implication wasnât lost on Mark.
He was free to woo Cecilia, but coercion was off the table.
Markâs smile held a trace of resignation.
âI understand, Dad.
â
A flicker of discomfort crossed Korbynâs features, finding Markâs familiarity brazen.
He scoffed.
âDonât call me that.
You are no longer married to Cecilia.
â
Markâs response was a simple, amiable smile.
With Edwin in tow, Mark headed back.
Midway, his phone rang; Waylen was calling.
Assuming the call concerned Cecilia, Mark answered.
Yet, Waylenâs first question caught him off guard.