Divorced But Desired by the Mafia King
Opening a window, I let in a fresh breeze, dissipating the smell of cleaning products as I look over my handiwork.
Livy is happily kicking her feet, eating a jam sandwich on gluten-free bread–food from my old stash for Jayson from before Evelyn. Jayson looks at his own sandwich ruefully, poking it with his finger, his lips twisted downward.
“Anything wrong?” I ask, and he turns, his face transforming into one of joy as he shakes his head.
“No, Mama. I’m just not hungry,” he pushes away his plate, leaving the food untouched. “Can we read my story now?”