Page 146 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
"Nothing."
She kept slicing tomatoes. The blade on the board, steady now—one cut, another, another.
Lunch was pasta. When Olivia brought the plates to the table, Juliet was already seated, legs swinging, eyes locked on the noodles. Leo sat across from her, spread his napkin on his lap—neat and careful—then looked up at me.
"Sir, aren't you eating?"
"I am." I sat down beside him.
He nodded and started twirling pasta on his fork. Practiced movements, clean work, no sauce splattered on the table. He ate quietly, no talking, fork silent against the plate.
Olivia sat across from me, head down, pushing pasta around her plate with her fork. Not eating, just moving it.
"Vivi, why aren't you eating?" Juliet asked.
"I am." She took a small bite, put it in her mouth.
Leo pushed the bell peppers to the side of his plate, piling them into a little mountain. Olivia looked up.
"Leo."
"Mommy, I don't like bell peppers."
"You still have to eat them. Bell peppers have vitamins."
Leo wrinkled his nose, stabbed a piece with his fork, held it near his mouth, hesitated forever, just wouldn't put it in.
"I don't like bell peppers either," I said.
Olivia looked up at me, surprised.
"Daddy doesn't eat them either!" Juliet bounced up like she'd discovered a great secret. "So it's normal that Leo doesn't eat bell peppers! Because—"
"Juliet," I interrupted. "Sit down and eat."
She obeyed but kept laughing, showing the little gap between her front teeth. When Olivia looked down, she quickly flicked broccoli off her plate under the table.
"Juliet." Olivia's voice came from across the table.
"I didn't!"
"I saw you."
Juliet shrank back, stuck out her tongue, picked up the broccoli from under the table, shoved it in her mouth, chewed twice, face scrunching up.
Leo watched and couldn't help laughing. Juliet laughed too, nearly spitting out the broccoli.
The two kids dissolved into giggles.
Olivia watched them and sighed, but her eyes and brows were full of warmth.
I sat there, watching them—Juliet and Leo laughing, Olivia watching them laugh. Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on the table, on the pasta, on her lashes.
This moment felt too much like family.
When that thought landed, I almost wished time could stop right here.
After lunch, Leo pushed his plate to the center of the table, placed his fork neatly beside it, looked up at Olivia.
