Page 49 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
“Ollie, is that you?” Leila’s voice floated from inside.
Ollie? That name sounded familiar. I recall it was the kid she mentioned she was picking up from school. Her neighbor’s kid. Though it hadn’t made sense why she tensed as she explained it, like she was guilty of something I hadn’t even accused her of.
I ignored the thoughts and made to knock again, but I heard another voice.
“No, Mom! I’m in my room!” the kid shouted.
Mom? Did he just call Leila mom?
Ten seconds later, the door flew open. The little boy stood there, his wide, questioning eyes flicking up to me like he was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted.
Leila appeared behind him, and the second her eyes landed on me, she froze.
All the color drained from her face.
She was wearing a worn T-shirt that was clinging to her in wet patches. It was soaked around the collar and across her chest, where the red of her bra faintly showed through. A faded skirt clung to her thighs, and her hands were covered by yellow gloves. She was holding a wrench.
I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t stop myself when my gaze dipped lower, lingering on her chest, on that red lace fabric that was teasing me. I felt it then, a twitch in my pants. Leila looked like a goddamn mess with her hair dripping with water and her clothes clinging to her skin, yet it did something to me.
As if she noticed me staring, she crossed her arms against her chest and shifted on the spot.
Her gaze bounced between me and the boy. Then back again.
For a long moment, neither of us said a word. She just stood there, staring like I was a ghost she hadn’t quite believed would ever reappear.
“Who are you?” the boy asked, voice steady. “Mom, is that my Labubu?”
Leila’s eyes dropped to the toy in my hand.
“Um…” Her voice wavered, stuck halfway between her mouth and her throat.
So I helped her out.
“I’m a friend of your mom’s,” I said, meeting the kid’s gaze. “She left this at the cafe the other day when we met. Isn’t that right, Leila?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Thanks.” Leila said quickly, snatching theLabubu from my hand. “Have a good day, Luca.” Ollie looked up at her, then back at me, curiosity glowing in his eyes. But he didn’t speak.
I couldn’t stop looking at him. And every time I did, I saw Leila stiffen.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. Were you busy?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice firm.
“Mommy’s been trying to fix the kitchen sink for hours. But the water keeps splashing everywhere.”
I raised a brow. He was articulate for someone his age—clear, precise. Like I’d been when I was his age.
I glanced at Leila again. That explained the soaked shirt.
“If you don’t mind, I can help,” I offered, before I could think better of it.
Leila frowned. “What do you know about fixing kitchen sinks?”
“More than you do, I’m guessing.”
“Uncle Ray—the man who helps us—traveled,” Ollie said. “So Mom is stuck. The kitchen keeps flooding, and she has to clean the floors every time.”
Leila closed her eyes briefly and pressed her lips together, clearly embarrassed.
