My Cheating Mate (Emma and Jeremy) novel Chapter 179

Chapter 179

“I asked Mrs. Chen at school–She teaches art and she knows which ones are good” Grace leaned against his knee in that casual way she’d been doing since she could walk. “Uncle Cas, after my birthday, can you teach me about vampire art? Like what paintings you’ve seen that are really old? Mama said you’ve been alive long enough to see famous art when it was new.”

“I’ve seen a few historically significant pieces, yes.”

“Can you tell me about them? I want to know what made them special.” She yawned the sugar crash from the cookies she’d consumed an hour ago was hitting. “Not tonight. I’m tired tonight. But sometime soon?”

“Sometime soon,” he agreed. “Now, I think someone needs to go to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” she said, immediately yawning again. “I’m just resting my eyes while standing up.”

Emma moved into the room, scooping Grace up despite protests that she was too big to be carried. “Resting your eyes in bed is more effective. Come on, birthday girl. Let’s get you into pajamas.”

“Will you read me the vampire history book?” Grace asked, wrapping her arms around Emma’s neck. “The one Uncle Cas gave me?”

“If you brush your teeth without negotiating.”

“I always brush my teeth.”

“You negotiate about it for ten minutes first.”

“That’s just conversation.”

Emma carried her out, their voices fading toward the stairs. Cas and I were left in the playroom, surrounded by Grace’s elaborate

block constructions.

“A family portrait,” Cas said quietly. “Formal. Professional. With me included.”

“She’s right, you know. About it being accurate.” I moved to look at the horse parliament structure. “Cas, you’ve been in every family photo we’ve taken for five years. Holiday pictures, birthday parties, random snapshots. The only difference with a formal portrait is the frame.”

“The political implications-”

“Are that we’re stating clearly what’s already obvious.” I looked at him. “The Council knows. Every allied pack knows. Hell, half the supernatural world knows. The only people we’d be making a statement to are the ones who’ve been pretending they don’t see what’s right in front of them.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Aldric will see it. When it’s done. When images circulate.”

“Good. Let him see it.” I moved toward the door. “Let him see an ancient vampire standing with a pack family in a formal portrait because a six–year–old wanted everyone to know exactly who belongs to each other.”

“She’s devastatingly effective.”

“She learned from you.” I paused at the doorway. “Cas, you okay with this? Really? Because if you’re not, we can

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“I’m more than okay with it.” His voice was rough. “I’m–overwhelmed by it. That she wants me there. That you want me there. That this family that I stumbled into by accident wants me in the formal portrait.”

“Not by accident. By choice. We all chose this.”

“Yes.” He looked at Grace’s stable again. “We did.”

Later that night, after Grace was asleep and the house was quiet, Emma and I had the evening we’d been planning for weeks.

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+15 Bonus

Actual time alune. No Grace, no Council politics, no coalition coordination. My father had Grace for the night–complete with instructions about bedtime, breakfast preferences, and emergency contacts that Emma had written out in detail despite Grace having spent hundreds of nights with her grandfather.

“She’ll be fine,” I said, watching Emma check her phone for the third time in twenty mmutes.

“I know she’ll be fine.” She set the phone down firmly. “I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re being a mother.”

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“I’m being a mother who hasn’t had a full evening alone with her mate in- She paused. “Four months? Has it been four months?”

“At least.” I moved to the couch where she sat, pulling her against me. “Emma, we’re alone. Grace is safe. The ceasefire is holding. Can we just–be? For one night?”

She relaxed against me, her head on my shoulder. “Be. I like that word. Just be.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while. The kind of silence that came from knowing each other completely. From seven years of rebuilding trust one difficult conversation at a time. From surviving things that should have broken us and somehow coming

out stronger.

“Grace wants a family portrait,” Emma said eventually. “With Cas in it.”

“I know. I was watching.”

“She’s going to cause a diplomatic incident with that portrait.‘

“Probably.” I kissed the top of her head. “But she’s right. It’s just accurate representation of what’s already true.”