The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 584

Late that night, Petty lay in bed, cuddling her very own, literal little heater.

The toddler was fast asleep. Before drifting off, he had rolled over to press his face against her chest, his tiny fist gripping the collar of her pajamas. Even in his sleep, he refused to let go.

It made her heart melt into an absolute puddle.

Petty lowered her chin and pressed a soft kiss to his hair.

How could a child be this adorable?

Closing her eyes, Franco's voice suddenly echoed in her ears.

—Unless absolutely necessary, I will stay out of your sight.

In the darkness, Petty's lips pressed into a tight line. The bitterness she had locked away deep in her heart threatened to seep through the cracks.

She took a deep breath, letting out a quiet, self-deprecating sigh.

It brought to mind an old poetic sentiment—sometimes, it was better never to meet at all, for unspoken feelings were far crueler than heartlessness.

That perfectly summed up her and Franco.

Their very beginning had been a mistake.

In the master bedroom, the nursery camera monitor remained unplugged. Franco hadn't ordered anyone to reconnect it.

It was past twelve-thirty; he figured she and the boy were already asleep.

He pushed open the glass doors to the terrace. A biting wind swept up the snow from the ground.

The entire mountainside was buried beneath a thick layer of white.

On a freezing night like this, any other man would be curled up in a warm bed with his wife and child. He had his child, but no wife. The woman he desperately wanted was sleeping just down the hall, yet he couldn't even look at her.

Dr. Ian Cavanaugh's advice rang clearly in his ears—Just keep your distance from her as much as possible.

He looked down, lighting a cigarette. Leaning back against the wall, he tipped his head up and slowly exhaled a plume of smoke, his Adam's apple sliding in his throat.

The stark reflection of the snowy night seeped into his deep, striking eyes, igniting a dangerous, obsessive red rimming his irises.

Seeing less of her didn't mean he couldn't see her at all.

Petty, how could I ever let you go?

...

Early the next morning, Petty felt a soft, wet sensation on her face. It was ticklish, yet incredibly warm.

"Mama... mwah!"

Mama and Papa had said the exact same thing!

Suddenly, he grabbed Franco's face and planted a wet, forceful kiss on his forehead, using the exact same enthusiasm he'd just given Petty.

He grinned happily. "Mama kiss, Dada kiss!"

Franco let out a low "Mm" in acknowledgment, assuming the boy meant he'd just given his mother the same greeting.

But Manley started squirming in his arms. He pointed a chubby finger at his own cheek and demanded in a sweet, milky voice, "Mama kiss, Dada kiss!"

"Do you want Daddy to kiss you?" Franco asked softly.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the boy's left cheek.

"Hehe!" Manley giggled, poking his right cheek before turning to look at Petty. "Mama kiss!"

Petty froze for a second.

Manley wiggled persistently against Franco's chest, urging her on. "Mama kiss! Mama kiss!"

Jay had just come upstairs to brief Franco on the day's schedule. As he crested the stairs, his eyes landed on the doorway to the nursery—Franco holding the child, and Petty leaning in to kiss his cheek.

It painted the perfect picture of a blissfully happy family.