Three Years Later, He Came Back Begging novel Chapter 78

“Candie…” The voice on the other end sounded low and heavy, weighed down by something Bonnie didn't want to face.

Her good mood fell straight through the floor. She hung up on him right away, jaw tightening, and stared at the food in her bowl. She couldn’t eat another bite.

Lawrence had said it himself: as long as she stopped going on those awful blind dates, he’d leave her alone. Yet here he was, calling again. Would it never stop?

She checked the call log. The number was local but unlisted. Annoyed, she blocked it. Only then did she feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction.

Meanwhile, Lawrence wasn’t giving up so easily. Every call was met with a busy signal, but he dialed her over and over, still hoping she’d pick up.

He stepped outside into the yard, looking up at the night sky. It was supposed to be a night for families, for finding your own moon, but he couldn’t even see his.

Jasper came bounding out of the villa, arms thrown tight around Lawrence’s leg. “Daddy, I can recite a poem! Mommy told me to say it for you!”

Lawrence pulled himself from his thoughts and picked Jasper up. In just over a month, Jasper would be three—prime age for chattering nonstop. He’d just gotten over a cold from Lawrence, had spent days feeling miserable, and now seemed to be making up for lost time, energy spilling everywhere.

Jasper’s voice was clear and bright as he recited his poem, head bobbing with pride.

Lawrence hugged him, his gaze drifting up to the faraway moon. He barely heard the poem, lost in thought, but forced out a smile. “That’s amazing, Jasper. You already know such a long poem.”

Jasper’s face glowed with excitement and he started jumping, wanting to play soccer. Lawrence joined in without much enthusiasm, only stopping when Hannah’s gentle voice called from behind.

“Lawrence, Jasper’s still getting over his cold. Don’t let him get sweaty,” she reminded him.

Lawrence stopped, wiping the sweat from Jasper’s brow. Hannah walked over, scooped her son into her arms, and brushed a kiss across his cheek. She stood with Lawrence, looking every bit the gentle mother.

“Jasper, want to watch the moon with us?” she asked.

But Jasper was not interested. Soccer, cars, running wild—anything but moon gazing. He wriggled in her arms, impatient to be set down. No three-year-old wanted to snuggle all night. With a gentle sigh, Hannah put him on the ground.

Seizing his chance, Jasper grabbed Lawrence’s hand and tugged him toward the stairs. “Daddy, let’s go play Car Superheroes!”

Lawrence shut his eyes, steeling himself. He grasped her arm and gently pushed her away. He couldn’t see her face, and he didn’t want to.

But Hannah was persistent. She slipped back toward him, holding him close, lips searching for his neck and jaw, desperate for connection. Again, he pushed her away.

He turned on the light. The room was suddenly too bright, and there was Hannah. She wore a black V-neck slip dress with a low neckline and a hem so short it barely covered the tops of her legs. One thin strap had slipped off her shoulder, leaving her looking vulnerable and exposed.

Lawrence looked away. “I need to go to work early tomorrow. Try to get some sleep.”

His voice was flat, not a single trace of emotion or hesitation, and he wouldn't meet her eyes. The coldness hit Hannah like icy water in the dead of winter. She started to tremble.

Before the Lane family took her in, Hannah had been raised like a princess—born into wealth, always proud, always certain. Everything fell apart, and the Lanes gave her shelter, warmth, and dignity. She’d never really suffered a day in her life.

Pride and self-respect were woven into her, just as much as anyone else’s. But every rejection, every cold shoulder, was slowly breaking her apart.