We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 210

We Want Mommy, Not You, Daddy!

Chapter 210

Ridley’s POV

Cedar has been living in the Sterling mansion for about two weeks

now, and I’ve mastered the art of avoiding her. This past week, our

conversations have been minimal and strictly about the children.

What I didn’t anticipate was how excruciating this self–imposed

distance would be. My feelings for her run deeper than I dared admit,

and I’m terrified that one moment of weakness–one lingering look or

casual touch–might shatter my resolve.

God, how I want to hold her, to tell her everything. To confess that

behind my cold exterior beats a heart that’s completely hers. But

what’s the point? I’m a man with a death sentence hanging over my

head. The latest test results sit in my desk drawer like a time bomb.

The treatments aren’t working as well as my doctors had hoped.

No, I can’t tell Cedar about my condition. That would be the height of

selfishness. Why burden her with grief for a future that will never

exist? If I keep her at arm’s length, she can move on after I’m gone.

She deserves happiness, even if I won’t be around to witness it.

Saturday evening arrived with Chicago’s skyline illuminated against

the darkening sky. As I drove through the wrought–iron gates of the

Sterling estate, the mansion’s warm golden lights welcomed me

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Chapter 210

home.

The marble foyer echoed with my footsteps as I entered. In the living

room, only Aiden sat in one of the leather armchairs, a leather–bound

book open in his small hands. From upstairs floated Cedar’s melodic

voice–she must be reading Oliver and Aria their bedtime story.

“Aiden,” I said softly, loosening my tie. “Missing story time?”

My oldest son looked up, his eyes–so much like mine–serious

beyond his six years. “I was waiting for you, Dad.”

I settled into the chair opposite him, curious. “What’s on your mind?”

Aiden closed his book with deliberate care, his expression

unnervingly adult–like. He cleared his throat in that way he does

when preparing for something important.

“I wanted to talk to you about Mom,” he said carefully.

I stiffened, caught off guard. Our serious talks were usually about his

education or occasionally my work–never about Cedar.

“Go ahead,” I said, keeping my voice neutral while studying him

intently.

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“You asked Mom to move in to help with Aria,” he began, his small

fingers tracing the book’s spine. “But now that Aria’s doing better-

the doctor said she’s almost like any other slightly introverted child

now–does Mom still need to stay here?”

My jaw tightened. “You don’t want her here?”

“That’s not it at all.” Aiden’s voice was earnest. “I love having Mom

here. But she works at Nest Design all day, then comes home to take

care of us at night. We’re monopolizing her entire life.”

He looked up at me, his gaze disarmingly direct. “She’s turning

twenty–six soon, Dad. She should be dating, having her own life. I

thought maybe you liked her… that you might want to marry her. But

now I’m not so sure.”

His words hung in the air between us.

“If you don’t love her,” he continued softly, “then maybe we should let

her go back to her own life.”

“Who says I don’t love her?” The words escaped before I could stop

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