The Sky Remembered the Touch of Our Unfinished Goodbyes by Lysa Orion Rehn 118

We Want Mommy, Not You, Daddy! 

Chapter 118 

Ridley’s POV 

The disappointment on Aiden’s face was unmistakable. His small shoulder slumped as he watched Cedar with away without schladging 

without acknowledging him. 

As for me, I could feel my jaw clenching so hard it might crack. 

She had completely ignored us. Worse, she was chatting animatedly with some random guy right in front of me. Like I was invisible. Like I wasn’t standing right there, all six–foot–two of me, impossible to miss. 

The morning crowd in the lobby gave us a wide berth. Even strangers could sense the waves of cold fury radiating from me and my son. Like father, like son–our expressions must have been identical masks of displeasure. 

When we reached the executive floor, Aiden silently headed to the small office adjacent to mine where he sometimes reviewed design portfolios. I stalked into my own office, slammed the door harder than necessary, and dropped into my chair. 

The stack of contracts requiring my signature sat untouched on my desk. flipped open the top folder, but the words swam before my eyes, refusing to form coherent sentences. 

I’d accused her yesterday of overstepping her bound. It was a low blow, spoken in anger, and I knew it even as the words left my mouth. 

But what I couldn’t admit–what I still couldn’t fully acknowledge–was how much I enjoyed having her in our lives. The way she treated the boys, the way she lit up around them. The way she lit up around me. 

And now she wouldn’t even look at me. Wouldn’t even say good morning. 

Instead, she was making small talk with some mediocre marketing guy about his goddamn commute. 

I tossed my Mont Blanc pen onto the desk and swiveled my chair to face the floor–to–ceiling windows. The Chicago skyline stretched before me, 

but I barely saw it. All I could see was Cedar’s profile as she deliberately turned away from me, as if I were nothing. 

The feeling gnawing at my insides wasn’t something I was familiar with. It wasn’t anger, exactly. It was something else–something uncomfortable and persistent. 

Something I wasn’t ready to name. 

Albert’s POV 

Mr. Sterling tapped his fingers against the polished mahogany desk, his voice cutting through the air like ice. “Albert. Come in.” 

I sat at my desk outside the executive office, feeling my stomach drop at the sound of his voice. My morning coffee suddenly felt acidic in my 

stomach. 

It was barely 8 AM, and I could already tell Mr. Sterling was in a foul mood. The temperature in the Sterling Design Group’s executive floor seemed to drop several degrees whenever he was upset. 

I’d been purposely avoiding going in to give my morning report, hoping his mood might improve. No such luck. Taking a deep breath, I entered the lion’s den with my head slightly bowed. 

1/2 

13:15 Tue, Feb 10 

Chapter 118 

What can I do for you, sir? I kept my valce steady, professional. 

Have the Design Director come up.” His obsidian eyes revealed nothing, at after five years as his executive assistant, I could read betemen the 

lines. 

The Design Director was Ms. Wright, Cedar Wright. 

Mr. Sterling’s mood was this dark, yet he specifically wanted to see Cedar They must have had a disagreement, and he was using work as an excuse to see her. Classic Ridley Sterling move–unable to simply apologize like a normal human being 

‘Right away, sir. I’ll call Ms. Wright on the internal line,” I responded efficiently, retreating to my desk. 

I dialed Cedar’s extension, silently praying she was in a more agreeable mood than my boss. 

“Ms. Wright, it’s Albert. Mr. Sterling has some work matters he’d like to discuss with you. Could you come up when you have a moment?