There was a time when my son was just a tiny bundle of joy. A few years later, although still a bundle of joy, Ethan has also become a lot of energy. The thumping footsteps heading my way is a solid proof to that increasing energy.

A giddy Ethan came into view, blue eyes opposite to my hazel ones twinkling delightfully. He had his daddy's mane of light brown hair, a nose perching perfectly on his face and lips that breathtakingly display a charming smile. Truth be told, he looks nothing like me.

"Mommy!"

"Hi, baby, how's—" my sentence ended with a startled oomph when he flung himself at me, the impact on my right leg sending me a couple of steps back to our doorstep. "God, I love you, but mommy might end up getting tackled in these very steps."

His arms went around my leg. "But I missed you."

"You do?" I lifted him to my arms, a smile playing on my lips. "How much?"

"It's from here," he says with his arms outstretched and then raised it high above his head, "to the moon and then back here."

A laugh came from the hallway. Tessa stood with Ethan's coloring books tucked beneath her arm. "He has his way with words like his daddy."

"He sure does. Two men who mastered the art of buttering me up." I tweaked his nose and closed the door behind me. I followed Tessa to the living room, surprised there wasn't any trace of post-war clutter that usually greets when I come home from work. "How was your day, Tessa?"

"The usual. Someone has been eagerly asking for dessert after lunch," Tessa answers, a smile worn on the corners took its place on her face. She had been working for my family since I was a teen. "I gave him a cookie. And then another because he cleaned up after himself." She gestures to the toys that were back in their pirate chest.

I gave Ethan a rewarding smile. "You picked up after yourself? That explains the missing clutter."

"Yes. And I ate my vegetables. Even the Broccoli." He grins haughtily.

I pressed a kiss on the tip of his nose. "You're making me proud."

"I'll get started on dinner." Tessa stacked the coloring books on the coffee table and heads to the kitchen.

Since my last kitchen debacle, my attempts for domesticity has officially been postponed – probably for good. My culinary skills had signified no improvement at all.

The sound of a car groaning into a stop in our driveway made Ethan's face a thousandfold brighter. "Mommy it's daddy," he gushes, floundering from my hold.

I put him to his feet, and he raced to the front door. I chased after him. "Ethan, no running."

"Mommy, it's daddy." He jumps up and down, opening the door himself.

Sure enough, Nathaniel Forester was there like... always. Never missing any visit in his dark jeans and flannel shirt, the sleeves bunch up to his elbows casually. He wears authority and benignity impressively well. Casual and just the right amount assertive. He took over Forester Realty and doing a great job running the company.

He had his looks too. Something worth looking over the fence for like my neighbors are doing right now. Or should I say, every single time he comes to visit.

Nathan swung the sling of his duffel bag on one shoulder. I watched in horror as Ethan crashed to his daddy like a meteor. He didn't so much as budge at the impact and swept him off the ground like he was a piece of paper.

"Hi." I sighed.

His lips stretched into a handsome smile. "Was that a sigh of relief, Chassie George? You missed me?"

"Ha-ha. The sink did. It's doing the thing again. I couldn't call anyone to fix it."

"You can always call the plumber." He walks up to my doorstep, Ethan in his arms.

I bat my lashes in overstated innocence. "I can, yes, but I won't because then I have to pay."

Nathan snorted. "You are many things, Chassie. But frugal isn't one of them."

"People change, you know." My arms are crossed over my chest in defense. Apparently, living three hours away from home for three years can't undo the supposed sparkly future I was meant to have.

When I decided to move, pulling off a runaway heiress conundrum was hardly my intention. True, life would have been easier had I stick with the blue-blooded upbringing back home. But then I will always be defined by how comfortable my sister and I were growing up.

If I were beauty queen material like my mother, Elizabeth Lewis, I would've changed my mind. If I were. First of all, I haven't really paid much attention to how I look. I just knew I was passably attractive but not 'head-turning' gorgeous like her. I was a combination of her and my dad.

My older sister, Kathie Jane Lewis has extracted all the looks I could've inherited from our mother – no indignance here though. Including the inner beauty of philanthropy. Basically, she and our mother are spitting image of each other.

Second of all, I can't handle a crowd. My mother couldn't get me out my room on dinner parties she hosts. And she could never drag me up a stage to wave and smile prettily.

I would have been a businessman like my dad. He inherited Lewis Corporation from his parents and have made a name for himself in the business. I would have followed David Lewis' footsteps. Again, I would have.

Except I wanted to write.

Nathan chuckles, snapping me out of memory lane. "I've known you for decades. Believe me when I say you haven't changed a bit. Can I get inside the premises now? After all that traffic, I at least deserve a hug, you know."

"What? You've been traumatized by traffic?" I moved aside to allow him in.

Nathan and I met glances.

My brows twitched up. Do you want me to carry your duffel bag for you?

He shakes his head. Don't be ridiculous.

Nathan never lets me, but I always offer. They brush past me, Nathan carrying Ethan superman-style. I leave the men in the living room and went up to my bedroom to take a shower.

I had one leg on my sweatpants, one still off, when I noticed the A-line burgundy dress that hadn't been out of my closet for months. I retraced the last time I wore it to a date and couldn't even remember whom I had the date with.

Freeing my leg entirely from the sweatpants, I shuffled my way into the walk-in closet. I slipped into the dress, frowning when it won't zip close. I tug forcefully at the zipper on my back that wasn't even halfway up yet.

My struggle with the zipper garnered some beads of sweat on my forehead. Gritting my teeth, I tried lying on my front on the bed since hunching was just urging the zipper apart.

"Damn it." I groaned.

"Sink is fixed—crap, sorry, I should've knocked." The male intruder was frozen by the doorway.

I push myself off the bed, practically out of breath from struggling. "Don't worry about it. You didn't walk in on an awkward moment. Can you zip me up?"

His eyes lingered, tentative.

"This zipper is not going to zip itself. Get over here." I turn around so my back is on him and tapped my foot impatiently.

There were soft footsteps before I felt the zipper finally sliding up. A hand hoisted my hair to my shoulder, maybe it was in the way. "You're off to a date?"

I turn back around. "Just washing the dishes."

His brows arched.

I waved a hand in dismissal of the subject. "How's Sydney? Still a beautiful city in Australia?"

"How's Frank? Still a monster?"

I snorted. "Puh-lease, he was a long time ago. Your son sent him running for the hills the moment he set foot on this house."

"Maybe the guy was a jerk." He shrugs.

"If Ethan does that to jerks, then, there's no decent guy in the world anymore? No offense, though."

"None taken. Ethan will warm up to the idea eventually."

"Easy for you to say. You have Sydney Williams. And he doesn't hate her."

Ethan scared off potential boyfriends who never even got to first base. Some immediately draws back when I mention I have a kid, and some who doesn't are rid of by Ethan.

As if on cue, my son comes in, TV remote in hand. He grinned at his daddy then scowled when his gaze shifted to me. "You're going on a date? But you promised no dates on movie nights." He stomped his foot and purses his lips at me. He looked like he was about to cry.

"I'm just trying this on, baby. How do I look?"

Ethan tilted his head to one side. "Is that a dating dress?"

"Can be."

"It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," he answers dryly. And he's added a little sting by walking out.

My jaw dropped to the floor. "See? He will never warm up to my dating life."

A bubbly socialite has threatened to spread colors in Cade Parkinson's monochromatic life. The brightest ray of sunshine whose boyfriend just gone MIA. However hard he tried to fend her off, she's just too stubborn as his sweet tooth. He has weakness for sweets. And then inevitably, a weakness for Kathie Jane Lewis. Funny how his own sweet tooth put his heart on the line.