Mom, Don't Cry! Here comes a new Daddy! novel Chapter 123

Chapter 111

(Sabrina’s POV)

I want to believe him. I do.

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But there’s a small voice in the back of my head that keeps whispering: What if you’re wrong?

What if I walk in there and she sees everything I am–divorced, middle–class, not from the right

background–and decides I’m not good enough for her grandson?

What if Ethan has to choose between us?

And what if he doesn’t choose me?

Ethan seems to read my thoughts. He pulls me closer.

“She’s not going to make me choose,” he says quietly. “And even if she did, I’ve already chosen. I

chose you the moment I saw you on that cruise. I chose you again when I proposed. I’m choosing

you now.”

“But your family-”

“You’re my family. You and Jake. That’s not changing.”

I lean into him and let myself believe it.

Jake and I are his family.

That’s not going to change.

(Ethan’s POV)

The private airfield is quiet at this hour.

Just me and the ground crew and the low hum of a plane somewhere in the distance, getting ready to land. I check my watch for the third time in five minutes even though I know exactly what

time it is.

Gran’s plane is on schedule. It’s always on schedule. My grandmother doesn’t do late.

I’ve been standing here for twenty minutes, which is fifteen minutes longer than necessary. But I

couldn’t sit in the car anymore. Couldn’t keep still. The driver probably thinks I’m nervous about a

business deal.

He’s not entirely wrong.

This is a negotiation. Just not the kind I’m used to.

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The plane appears on the horizon–small at first, then growing larger as it approaches. The engines get louder. The wheels touch down with barely a bump. Perfect landing, like everything

else in Gran’s world.

I straighten my jacket. Run a hand through my hair. Then stop myself because that’s a tell and Gran

reads tells better than anyone I know.

The plane taxis to a stop. The door opens. Steps unfold.

And there she is.

Katherine Hale.

Seventy–two years old but she moves like she’s fifty. Gray hair cut in a sharp bob that makes her look younger than her age. Tailored pantsuit in navy blue. Pearls at her throat. Posture so straight it

makes my spine ache just looking at it.

She’s elegant. Commanding. Exactly the same as she was six months ago when I saw her last.

But something in her eyes is different when she looks at me. Sharper. Assessing.

Behind her, Rosalie appears.

My sister–not by blood, but by choice. Gran adopted her when we were both kids and she’s been part of the family ever since. She’s wearing travel clothes that look like they came straight off a runway. Her hair is perfect despite the flight. She smiles when she sees me.

“Ethan!” She hurries down the steps and pulls me into a hug before I can brace for it. “I’ve missed

you so much.”

“Missed you too, Rosie.”

She pulls back, hands on my shoulders, studying my face. “You look different. Good, happy

different.”

“I am happy.”

“That’s what I hear.” She glances back at Gran, who’s making her way down the steps with more care. “Grandmother’s been very curious about this mysterious woman who’s captured your

attention.”

“She’s not mysterious.”

“She is to us.”

Gran reaches the bottom of the steps. The ground crew rushes to handle her luggage but she

waves them off with one hand and walks straight to me.

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“Ethan.” She doesn’t hug. Gran’s not a hugger. But she puts one hand on my arm and looks at me

the way she used to when I was a kid and she was checking to make sure I’d done my homework.

“You look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“This woman is keeping you up at night?”

It’s not really a question. More like an observation wrapped in judgment.

“Her name is Sabrina. And yes, I’ve been busy with the company.”

“The company.” She says it like she doesn’t believe me. “No matter. I raised you to prioritize sleep. A tired mind makes poor decisions.”

“I’m not making poor decisions.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Rosalie loops her arm through mine, steering us toward the car. “Don’t interrogate him yet,

Grandmother. He just got here.”

“I’m not interrogating. I’m observing.” But Gran’s eyes don’t leave my face. “You’re different. More…

distracted.”

“I’m engaged. I’m allowed to be distracted.”

“Engaged.” She repeats the word like she’s testing it. “Yes. I received your message. Very brief. Very little detail.”

“I was going to tell you in person.”

“And yet you proposed before consulting me.”

There it is. The real issue.

I should have called her before I proposed. Should have brought Sabrina to meet her first. Should

have followed protocol.

But I didn’t want to risk Gran talking me out of it.

We reach the car. The driver opens the door and Gran slides in with the grace of someone who’s been doing this for seventy years. Rosalie follows. I take the seat across from them.

The driver closes the door and we pull away from the airfield.

For a moment, nobody speaks.

Then Gran says, “Tell me about her.”

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“About Sabrina?”

“About this woman you’ve decided to marry without consulting your family first.”

I knew this was coming. Prepared for it. But hearing it out loud still makes my jaw tight.

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“She’s brilliant,” I say. “Creative. Strong. She works at Hale Global as a Creative Director. Her

campaigns are some of the best we’ve ever produced.”

“So she works for you.”

“With me.”

“Semantics.” Gran adjusts her pearls. “Rosalie mentioned she was previously married.”

I glance at Rosalie. She looks away.

“She’s divorced,” I confirm. “Her ex–husband was unfaithful. She filed, won custody of her son, and

rebuilt her entire life.”

“How admirable.” Gran’s tone suggests it’s anything but. “And this son. How old?”

“Six. His name is Jake.”

“You’re taking on another man’s child.”

The words land exactly the way she means them to. Heavy. Weighted with implication.

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