"Miss Whitney says she is your girlfriend," Don said bluntly.
Alex stiffened. "Miss Whitney?" He narrowed his eyes. "She isn't… when did she tell you that?"
"She came by today. Brought me some snacks," Don said. "She said it's from Grandma, but I don't believe her."
Alex's jaw ticked. Of course Whitney would try something like that. She was persistent, elegant, bred from the kind of wealth that rarely heard the word no. His mother had been grooming her for years—perfect wife material, she always said. Socialite enough to play the part, tame enough to follow the rules. But the only woman Alex craved, wanted, obsessed over… wouldn't fit into anyone's rules. Not even his.
"Why not?" he asked carefully.
"Grandma doesn't like me," Don said matter-of-factly.
Alex's entire body stilled.
He pulled Don gently into his arms, cradling the boy's small frame against his chest. Don curled into him instinctively, a warm bundle of trust.
