Dangerous Love: You Are My One and Only Bride novel Chapter 1700

Arianne paused for a beat before clarifying, “Actually? She isn’t your Grandaunt, because she’s really your actual Granny… Bah, never mind. You’re too young to get me even if I explained it to you. Just wait till you’re all grown up, and you’ll get to dive into all of these juicy, messy things about the world. For now… wanna go downstairs and play outside? Your favorite slide is still out there in the yard. Mommy will play with you.”

Mentioning the slide instantly commanded the young boy’s attention. Living outside the Tremont Estate for so long had made him miss all of the fun doohickeys in his old home.

While the boy was knocking his socks off by himself, Mary and Arianne made themselves comfortable on the outdoor lounge chairs. “Phoo, now that a certain someone isn’t here anymore,” Mary said in the middle of their causerie, “The air has never tasted sweeter!”

“Mary…it’s all in the past now. Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?” Arianne intoned helplessly. “Who knows if she’ll turn out to be a good, likeable senior once her sickness is cured? Mark’s actually pretty hurt by how things ended, you know.”

Mary gave a long sigh. “God, it’s bad to say that now? …Fine, forget it. By the by, when are you gonna go back to the Tremont Estate and remarry Mr. Tremont? When the two of you first married, there wasn’t any ceremony or party or any kind of pizzaz. So, maybe you two should prepare for an extravagant event this time around! The Tremont family isn’t just some common folks, alright—something as big and important as a wedding gotta have the appropriate amount of dazzle! I mean, look at Jackson and Tiffany’s wedding! It was grand and peachy keen!”

Since Shelly had only recently been sent away to be institutionalized, Mark was likely not in the mood for planning it, while Arianne herself had no time. “I don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned it formally either, so maybe we’ll think about it some other time? I honestly don’t care that much about grandiosity and pomp…”

It was dinnertime. Mark lifted Smore and placed him on his lap, announcing to the child, “Alright, little man. Tell me what you want, and Daddy will grab it for you.”

It was an invitation Smore took up without reservation. He began ordering his father around with the bravado of a commander—even if his cravings seemed to change on a dime. He would pine for a particular food one minute, only to change mind and want another in the next. Most surprisingly of all, Mark was in such a great mood that he obliged to every single request. He had always been a bit of a martinet when it came to rules and etiquette of dining, so it was a novel sight to see him allowing Smore complete, free reign.

Suddenly, the young boy paused and looked up at his father. “Daddy, when can Mommy and me come home?”