Pfft—
The drink Cedric Clarke had just taken a sip of sprayed out in a fine mist.
He coughed, spluttering. "Cough—cough—"
Stewart shot him a disapproving look, eyebrows drawn tight.
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Cedric tried to catch his breath. "Jeez, I nearly choked! If you're jealous of how great my life is right now, just say so!"
"I'm being serious," Stewart replied, his expression grave. "Briony's back, but she's still upset. She's obviously going out of her way to avoid me."
Cedric, finally composed, studied Stewart for a moment before sighing.
"Hold on—I'm not sure I get what you're saying," Cedric said, frowning. "Last time, you told me you didn't love Briony. If all you wanted was a respectable Mrs. Wentworth, why do you care if she avoids you? She's home, your kids have their mother, the family's picture-perfect. What more do you want?"
"I might not love her," Stewart admitted, pouring himself another drink, "but I'm determined to be a good husband. Those five years we kept our marriage under wraps, things were harmonious for the three of us. Now with little Nina here, divorce feels even less like an option."
He took a long swig, nearly emptying his glass, then went on, "But I can tell she doesn't want to go back to how things were."
"What do you mean, go back?" Cedric shot him a sharp look. "You mean, she spends her days looking after your kids and her nights warming your bed?"
"Stewart, if that's all you think marriage is, you're a real piece of work."
Stewart's grip tightened around his glass. "Isn't that how most marriages are?"
"No, absolutely not! That's a terrible way to look at it."
Stewart's gaze darkened. "That's how my parents' marriage was."
Cedric stared at him, face suddenly serious. "You can't use your parents' marriage as the blueprint for your own."
Stewart pressed his lips together, silent.
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