Page 22 of Stone's Promise

Max let out a softwoofbeside me, his tail swishing like he was waiting for permission to chase him down.

“Nah,” I muttered, scratching behind his ear. “Not worth the effort.”

Liam stepped up, shaking his head. “Man, you’ve got patience I don’t.”

I clenched and unclenched my fists. “Didn’t feel like it.”

I bent down to pick up the bag, but I was still pissed. Not about Trey. About the fact that he didn’t give a damn about Emily. To him, she was just another way to make himself look good.

I wasn’t about to let it slide.

EMILY

I ROLLED OLIVER’S SUITCASEoutside and stood in the driveway, pretending to listen as my son rambled on about thoroughbreds and jockeys. He bounced in place, tossing out facts about the fastest horses in history and debating which one would win at the Derby.

I tried to keep up, nodding at the right moments, but my mind was elsewhere.

Why did Trey have to do this now? The weekend before Family Day? He knew how much it meant to Oliver and to me. This was just like him, sweeping in at the last minute with grand gestures, making himself look like the cool parent. He always had to one-up me, like the life I gave our son wasn’t enough.

I clenched my hands in front of me, forcing myself to breathe through the frustration.

Then Oliver stopped talking and started pulsing back and forth like a little welterweight. “I can’t wait to get back home and go to Family Day,” he said, shifting gears. “Will they have Choco Extreme ice cream there, Mom? It’s our favorite.”

Before I could answer, he threw his arms in the air. “This is going to be thebestweek ever!”

The lump in my throat was instant. I smiled, blinking against the sting of tears. “I love you so much, Ollie.”

Oliver looked at me like I’d just started reciting Shakespeare. He scrunched up his face. “Ew, Mom, why are you getting mushy like that? I just asked about ice cream.” Then, as if realizing something terrible, he groaned. “Youcannotdo that in front of Cody.”

A laugh bubbled up despite everything. “Noted.”

The low hum of an engine signaled Trey’s arrival. I stood as his Lamborghini pulled into the driveway. He stepped out in a fitted Hermès zip-up sweatshirt and matching joggers, his usual designer uniform he wore to catch flights.

I caught my own reflection in his Ray-Bans. Irritation flashed in my eyes.

“The jet’s all fired up and waiting for us, Ollie,” he announced, his tone easy, as if he wasn’t completely disrupting my weekend. “You ready to see some racing?”

Oliver jumped up and hugged me tightly.

Trey sighed, clearly impatient. “Come on. We don’t have all day.”

I bristled, wrapping my arms around my son, unwilling to rush this moment. “Let him hug me. He’s going away all week.”

Trey scoffed. “Knock off theMother of the Yearact. You know you’re glad to have this time to plan for your little town party.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped myself. He wanted to get under my skin. I hated that he still had the power to make me angry.

Instead, I kept my voice even. “I’m going to call every day at eight so I can tell him good night.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

The way his tone dragged made me look at him closer. He seemed tired, more exasperated than usual. His right hand flexed and unflexed at his side, and he rubbed his fingers over his knuckles.

“What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing. Just a little strain from working out.”

It had to be something more to what he said, but I let it go. I smoothed Oliver’s curls one last time. “Text me when your plane lands.”

---