Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 36

Iris

I must look like a wreck as I stare at the three tickets in Arthur’s hand, my mouth hanging open and the front of my shirt splattered with pancake batter, but I don’t care. I’m trying to figure out what Arthur’s angle is.

After everything that I said to him yesterday, why would he show up here? And why would he try to take us out to the amusement park, of all things?

But before I can answer, Miles whirls to face me and grins, his lips and cheeks stained purple from the blueberries he was just

eating.

“Can we, Mommy?” he pleads, clasping his hands together. “Oh, please, can we go?”

I’m not sure what to say. It’s almost impossible for me to tell Miles ‘no‘ under normal circumstances, and considering the fact that he was so upset during our weeks apart, I want nothing more than to give him the best time while we’re settling in here.

Plus, with Arthur staring at us, no doubt judging every little thing I do, it’s even harder to deny Miles.

denuru

Finally, my shoulders slump with defeat. I want to tell Arthur to piss off and leave us alone, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Not with Miles looking so hopeful.

“Alright,” I say with a soft sigh. “Eat your breakfast, and then we’ll go.”

Miles cheers, excitedly running back to his seat. I shake my head and turn around, flipping the pancake in the pan.

I can sense Arthur still standing behind me, lingering in the doorway. I almost consider letting him stand there awkwardly while we eat our breakfast, just to spite him, but even that is more cruel than I’d feel comfortable with.

“Come in,” I call over my shoulder without looking at him. “There aren’t enough pancakes, but you can help yourself to some

coffee if you want.”

I’ll let him come in briefly, but I’m certainly not going to serve him.

“I’m good, thanks,” Arthur says, clearing his throat. He shuts the door behind him and hesitates in the entryway. When I finally plate the pancakes and turn around, I find him still standing there, looking around at our apartment.

“Not the hovel you expected, is it?” I bite out as I place the plate down in front of Miles, scooping a dollop of homemade whipped

Still, I keep my expression neutral, leaving Miles to eat his breakfast while I make my way toward my bedroom. I can’t exactly go out wearing pajama pants and a shirt with pancake batter on it, so I slip away to get changed.