The Sky Remembered the Touch of Our Unfinished Goodbyes by Lysa Orion Rehn 117

Chapter 117 

We held each other tightly, and in that moment, it felt like nothing 

else in the world mattered–just us, together in this small sanctuary 

we’d created. 

The kitten meowed, demanding attention, and we both laughed 

through our tears. 

The morning light filtered through my curtains, warming my face. As I stirred awake, I realized I wasn’t alone in my bed. Somehow, Oliver had migrated from the guest room and was sleeping soundly beside me, his small arm draped across mine. 

When had he sneaked in? I had no recollection of him climbing into my bed during the night. 

He lay sprawled out in that carefree way only children can manage, his pajama top riding up to expose his little belly. At the foot of the bed, our rescue kitten had also made itself comfortable, curled into a perfect gray circle. 

I shifted slightly, and Oliver’s eyes fluttered open immediately. 

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“Morning, Mommy,” he mumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes as he sat 

I gently pinched his cheek. “Hey there. So, what’s the plan today? Are you staying here or heading back to your dad’s place?” 

He yawned before answering, his voice still thick with sleep. “Daddy doesn’t even know I’m back in Chicago yet. I should go home first, but I can come back for dinner tonight.” 

“Do you want me to drive you?” I offered, though I already suspected 

the answer. 

“No need. I already texted my driver,” he replied with that peculiar mix of childishness and sophistication that never failed to amaze me. “Be careful on your way to work today, okay?” 

I’d always known Oliver came from extraordinary wealth, so I didn’t push the matter. After we both got ready, I headed to work while he waited for his driver. 

The crisp morning air felt good against my face as I approached the Sterling Design Group building. Just as I reached the entrance, a sleek black Bentley pulled up to the curb. The back door opened, and two figures stepped out–one tall and imposing, the other small but carrying himself with the same commanding presence. 

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No matter how many times I saw them together, I couldn’t help but marvel at how Aiden was practically a miniature clone of Ridley. The genetic resemblance was uncanny–same sharp jawline, same intense eyes, even the same way of standing. 

I started to wave at Aiden, then hesitated, yesterday’s confrontation with Ridley flooding back into my mind. He had accused me of deliberately getting close to his children, of crossing boundaries. The sting of his words hadn’t faded overnight; if anything, the hurt felt more acute in the cold light of day. 

I settled for a quick smile in Aiden’s direction before turning away, careful to avoid meeting Ridley’s gaze. I walked briskly toward the building entrance, feeling their presence behind me like a physical 

force. 

From my peripheral vision, I saw Aiden start to move toward me, and I felt an instinctive urge to scoop him up into a hug. My arms actually twitched with the impulse. 

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t give Ridley more reason to misinterpret my 

actions. 

Instead, I turned to a colleague from the design department who happened to be walking nearby. “Good morning! Did you drive in today?” I asked, injecting false cheerfulness into my voice. 

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He looked surprised that I was speaking to him. We weren’t exactly friends–just coworkers who exchanged polite nods in the hallway. He was in his mid–thirties, with a forgettable face and sensible shoes. 

“Uh, yes, I did,” he replied, clearly caught off guard by my sudden interest in his commute. “Traffic wasn’t bad at all today.” 

“That’s great,” I continued, desperation making me chatty. “Where do 

you live, anyway? How long does it take you to get here?” 

“About thirty minutes, not too far,” he said, warming to the conversation. “What about you, Cedar?” 

We stepped into the elevator together, and I launched into an unnecessarily detailed description of my commute from Wicker Park, painfully aware of the two Sterling men watching us from the lobby.