He had always been obsessive about cleanliness. Every time he ate lobster, Sydney had shelled each one for him. And now… he was doing it for Savannah.
Chicago stood on his chair, yelling for cake. Preston didn’t scold him at all; he cut the cake and gave him a slice, coaxing him gently and patiently.
The scene reminded Sydney of her own son, the memory of him so painful she had to catch her breath.
Preston had never once celebrated a birthday with Julien. The father that he was had been “too busy,” and when he was home, he was stern. ‘Boys shouldn’t be delicate,’ he would say, never embracing Julien, never feeding him at the table.
Julien had died without ever seeing his father celebrate him. Meanwhile, Savannah’s son easily won Preston’s affection.
Sydney bit down on her trembling lips, refusing to let the tears fall.
Savannah noticed her and smiled faintly. “Oh, Sydney, you’re home. Why so quiet? Can’t stand to see Chicago and me?”
Preston lifted his head, and his gaze fell on Sydney. His once relaxed features quickly twisted with displeasure.