My Cheating Mate (Emma and Jeremy) novel Chapter 186

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Chapter 186

My Cheating Mate

Jeremy pov

Four years had passed since Emma had stood in the kitchen, trembling hands holding a positive pregnancy test. Four years since Cas had smiled–really smiled–when she’d asked if he wanted to be Uncle Cas to a second child.

Four years that had brought our son into the world.

Nathaniel. Nate for short. Named after no one in particular–Emma and I had just liked how it sounded. Strong but gentle. Classic but not pretentious.

Grace had approved immediately, which was critical since she’d had extensive opinions about potential names, including a brief but passionate campaign for “Thunder” that we’d diplomatically redirected.

Now Nate was turning four, and I was sitting at my desk trying to plan a birthday party for a child who had very specific opinions about appropriate celebration protocols.

Not as specific as Grace’s opinions had been at four–she’d required architectural consultations about party layout and historical accuracy for decorations. But Nate had his own particular requirements: dinosaurs (specifically velociraptors), blue cake (not light blue, not navy, regular blue), and “everyone has to come, Daddy, everyone in the family.”

Which, for Nate, meant a lot of people.

Grace was in the corner of my office, supposedly doing homework but actually talking to Cas about something involving her art class project. She was ten now–double digits, as she reminded everyone constantly–and had developed into a remarkable artist. The formal art supplies from her sixth birthday had been just the beginning. Now her room was covered in paintings, sketches, and what she called “experimental mixed media pieces” that honestly belonged in galleries.

“And Mrs. Chen said the perspective is improving,” Grace was explaining, “but I think the problem is that I’m trying to use traditional rules for something that should be more abstract. Uncle Cas, when you saw those Impressionist paintings when they were new, did people complain about the perspective being wrong?”

“Constantly.” Cas was reading something on his tablet but giving Grace his full attention simultaneously—a skill he’d perfected over ten years. “The traditional art establishment was horrified by the lack of precise perspective and the visible brushstrokes.”

“So being technically ‘wrong‘ according to old rules doesn’t mean it’s actually wrong.”

“Exactly. Sometimes innovation requires breaking rules that people have followed for so long they’ve forgotten why the rules

r exist.” 1

“That’s what I thought.” Grace made a note in her sketchbook. “I’m going to tell Mrs. Chen that my experimental perspective is historically supported by you as a primary source.”

“Please don’t cite me as a primary source to your art teacher. That seems pedagogically complicated.”

“Why? You literally saw Impressionism being invented. That’s as primary as sources get.”

I smiled, listening to them. This was normal now. Grace casually using her vampire uncle as a historical reference for school projects. Cas being cited as a primary source for artistic movements he’d witnessed firsthand.

The Council had been watching. Recording. Compiling their five–year observation data. In eight months, they’d vote again on the integration framework. Aldric’s vote would determine whether the ceasefire became something more permanent or whether we faced another potential conflict.

But for now, in my office, my daughter was arguing about Impressionist perspective with an eleven–hundred–year–old vampire while I planned my son’s dinosaur party.

Choptar

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Noctual. Our particular version of normal.

“Daddy?” Nate appeared in the doorway, his dark curls wild from his afternoon nap, clutching the stuffed velociraptor Grace had given him for his second birthday. “Is it my birthday now?”

“Not yet, buddy. Two more days.

“Two days is very long.” He climbed into my lap with the confidence of a four–year–old who knew he’d be welcomed. “Daddy, will Uncle Cas tell me about when dinosaurs were real?”

“Dinosaurs were extinct millions of years before Uncle Cas was born.”

“But he’s very old. Maybe he remembers.”

Cas made a sound that might have been a laugh. “Nate, I’m old by vampire standards. Not by dinosaur extinction timeline standards. But I can tell you about the first time humans discovered dinosaur fossils if you’d like.”

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