Ten Years Raising His Bastard Pup

"Eighteen tomorrow," I said, guiding the silver bristles through Lyra’s golden strands.

"I know. It feels completely surreal." She met my gaze in the vanity mirror, her blue eyes bright and wide.

"Are you nervous about the gala?"

"A little. Everyone from the country club is coming, right?"

"Every single one," I confirmed, pausing to detangle a small knot near her neck. "The whole town wants to celebrate the Monroe family's shining star."

"Stop, you're embarrassing me."

"I'm your mother. It's my job."

"Adoptive mother," she corrected softly, a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Mother," I insisted, tapping her bare shoulder. "DNA doesn't mean a thing in this house. You are mine."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I just want tomorrow to be perfect. I don't even know what jewelry to wear with the blue silk dress."

"We can look through my jewelry box after dinner," I offered. "You can borrow the diamond tennis bracelet."

"The one Kael gave you for your anniversary last year?"

"Yes. It would look stunning on you."

"I don't know," she murmured, picking at her fingernails. "I was hoping for something... different. Something of my own. Borrowing your things always makes me feel like a kid playing dress-up."

"You'll get plenty of gifts tomorrow. You won't feel like a kid for much longer."

"I guess."

"What's wrong, Lyra? You seem on edge."

"Nothing. Just birthday jitters."

"Are you sure? You've been quiet all afternoon."

"I'm fine, Mom. Really."

The bedroom door swung wide open.

Kael stepped inside. He wore a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the dark ink of his tattoos. He held a small, dark velvet box in his right hand.

"Am I interrupting the girls' time?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Never." Lyra spun around on the plush stool, her face lighting up instantly. The gloomy teenager from a second ago vanished, replaced by someone glowing and eager.

"Good. Because I couldn't wait until midnight to give you this."

He walked over, his attention fixed entirely on Lyra. He didn't even glance at my reflection in the glass.

"Kael, we agreed to do gifts tomorrow morning," I reminded him. "Before the caterers arrive."

"I changed my mind." He popped the box open with his thumb. "Some things are too important to wait for."

A heavy silver chain rested against the black silk lining. Suspended from the center was a massive, teardrop-shaped emerald.

I froze. My hand stalled mid-air, the brush hovering inches from Lyra's head.

"Turn around, Lyra," Kael instructed, his tone dropping a fraction. "Let me put it on you."

She obeyed immediately, facing the mirror again and sweeping her hair over her left shoulder.

Kael stepped right behind her, crowding my space. I had to take a half-step back to make room for his broad shoulders. He reached around her pale neck. The silver clasp clicked shut.

The emerald settled perfectly into the hollow of her collarbone.

I studied the gemstone.