Delivered by My Ex-Husband

Barely a year since the divorce and you are already dropping a kid. I guess your new guy gets the job done better than I did, huh.

I only realized my attending doctor was my ex-husband after they wheeled me into the delivery room.

I clawed at the nurse's scrubs and begged her to just knock me out, but it was too late.

He stood over me holding a scalpel, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek while his freezing gaze pinned me down.

I clamped my eyes shut and tried to play dead, but the baby was not playing along.

A tiny foot kicked against my abdomen.

A sharp spike of pain ripped a scream straight out of my throat.

"Screw you, Rhys! Get your damn son out of my body right now, or I swear to God I will kick over your medical tray!"

Chapter 1

I repeatedly begged the cab driver to avoid the downtown women's hospital. It was literally just a quick detour to get to St. Mary's instead. But the guy was too lazy to go the extra mile and pulled straight up to the downtown clinic.

He gave me some bullshit excuse about how Dr. Rhys was a godsend here. His own wife delivered here, the kid was perfectly healthy, and he told me to just relax and trust the process. Honestly, if I did not know anyone in this building, I would have been perfectly fine.

But my ex-husband was the exact Dr. Rhys he was raving about.

I vividly remembered the raw, suffocating breakdown he had when we signed the divorce papers.

We had been married for two years without a baby. A trip to the clinic confirmed he was the one firing blanks.

When my mom found out, she was convinced he was robbing me of my right to a complete family. She aggressively demanded I terminate this dead-end marriage immediately. I was still young enough to find a guy whose plumbing actually worked and settle down.

I did not fully agree. Even though Rhys and I met through a setup and did not have an earth-shattering romance at first, we actually clicked over those two years.

We did our own thing. I mean, we were both focused on our careers. Throwing the towel in that easily felt like a cheap move.

But my mom saw it differently. She argued that Rhys marrying me when he knew his equipment was faulty was the real betrayal. She practically threatened a heart attack to get her way, so I was backed into a corner to ask for a divorce.

That was the very first time I saw Rhys with his perfectly styled hair wrecked. His jaw was rough with stubble, his eyes a bloodshot mess. He was slumped in the corner, staring at the text message I sent him.

The second I walked through the door, he lunged toward me.

He gripped my shoulders hard. "Are we really doing this? Is this actually happening?"

I nodded, keeping my gaze firmly locked on the floorboards.

"Can we not just adopt? Or try IVF? Or I can sign up for the most extreme experimental treatments out there? Anything, just do not walk away from this marriage."

I shook my head, stepping back to break his hold.

"Your system is broken. You cannot just drag me down with you. Let's just rip the band-aid off and sign the papers. We have not been together long enough to fight over assets anyway."

I turned my back on him and started shoving clothes into my suitcase.

A massive fight erupted out of nowhere.

He slammed me aggressively against the closet door like a cornered beast.

The raw possessiveness in his dark eyes threatened to swallow me whole. It was our breakup sex, a frantic, desperate collision fueled by punishment and the agonizing realization of an ending. He promised he would walk out that door and vanish from my universe for good after we were done.

But the universe has a sick sense of humor.

A few weeks later, I was out on a blind date with some new guy. I threw up right onto the dining table, emptying every last bite of the expensive steak I just ate. My date practically ran for the hills.

My mom panicked, dragging me straight to the clinic to figure out what was wrong with my system.

Turns out, I was pregnant.

Suddenly, my hypocritical mother did a complete 180 and started pushing me to get Rhys back. I had way too much pride to ever face him again. Besides, it was a totally dirty move. I bailed on the guy when his engine stalled, and now that it miraculously fired up, I was supposed to just crawl back into his bed?

I was not built that way.

And I clearly remembered exactly how brutal he was during that final night. My body ached so badly I was practically bedridden for three days before I could even limp over to the courthouse to file the final paperwork.

As we left, he flashed me this sharp, cynical smirk and threw out one last line. "Good luck finding a guy who can nail you better than I did."

And now here I was, literally delivering his baby right into his hands. I honestly thought neither me nor the kid would survive the shift. The minute I was cleared to leave the delivery room, I ordered an Uber and bolted straight home.

Chapter 2

Three days after I brought the baby home from the hospital, Rhys knocked on my door carrying a bag of high-end organic fruit and a few bunches of bananas.

I pointed at the nearest counter. "Drop the bag and get out."

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. "Do not tell me you are still hopelessly obsessed with me?"

We might have been married for two years, but I could swear on my life we were nothing more than glorified roommates with a solid benefits package. It definitely never escalated to actual love. Back when we signed the papers, I figured his bruised ego was the only reason he threw such a massive fit.

But showing up like this? Was he actually trying to spin the block?

Not happening. Second chances are a total fairy-tale scam. A smart girl never digs through the same trash can twice for an expired donut. Besides, the man was practically married to his pride.

There was zero chance he would humiliate himself like this.

He let out a dry scoff. "Hardly."

He stepped further into the room. "I just came to see exactly how your mythical new guy gets the job done better than I did. Was my technique off, or did I just lack the stamina?"

Ha. Exactly what I thought.

He scanned the empty apartment. "Where is the baby daddy?"

Rhys dropped the grocery bag on the table, casually peeled a banana, and took a bite like he owned the place. "Out playing poker? Knocking back beers with the boys? Or hitting the golf course?"

I rolled my eyes hard enough to see my own brain. Apparently, he thought I was completely incapable of landing a decent guy.

"None of your damn business." I shot him a glare. "I see Dr. Rhys still has not kicked his pathetic stalking habit."

His jaw locked tight, wiping every trace of amusement from his face.

He reached into his coat and slammed a folded piece of paper onto my chest.

A paternity test.

He took another slow bite of his banana. "The baby daddy is currently eating a banana. Wouldn't you agree, baby mama?" His dark eyes locked onto mine.

Son of a bitch.

If he already knew the truth, why put on this whole theatrical performance? I did not even need to open my mouth. That single piece of medical grade paper was bulletproof evidence that the kid belonged to Rhys. It did not take a genius to figure out that the dinosaur doctor from two years ago completely botched his initial diagnosis.

Well, since the whole happy nuclear family was gathered in one room, we might as well lay all our cards on the table. I was never one to drag things out. If there was a mess, I cleaned it up immediately.

I shifted my focus back to Rhys. He was casually demolishing his second banana, acting entirely too comfortable in my living space. The baby was kicking on the bed, oblivious to the toxic radioactive tension suffocating the room. From the outside, we probably looked like a picture-perfect family.

Yeah, right. Like I said, a smart girl never digs through the same trash can twice.

I dropped my gaze and gently tapped the baby's tiny shoulder. "Listen up, kid. You have been in this world for almost a week now, so it is time to make some life choices. Who do you want to live with?"

"If you stick with me, you will definitely grow up to be the most popular heartthrob on the football team. But if you get stuck with that rigid workaholic who only knows how to inhale bananas, you will probably end up just handing out towels to people in the locker room."

Let's be brutally honest. I only married the guy in the first place because he had an objectively phenomenal face. We just luckily managed to tolerate each other's living habits as time went on. Once the rings were on, he practically lived at the hospital and had zero time for me.

Luckily, I was heavily allergic to romance anyway, so I never demanded the whole wine and roses routine.

But the game had changed now. I had a son, and he deserved top-tier everything. If Rhys took custody, the poor kid would be surviving on stale hospital cafeteria pudding three times a day. He would honestly be better off eating my DoorDash leftovers.

Right as the thought crossed my mind, Rhys let out a low, muffled burp.

I instantly seized the opportunity. "See that, baby?" I pointed an accusing finger at him.

"He just plowed through all those bananas and he is still hungry. If the fridge goes empty, he might just eat you for dinner."

Almost as if the kid completely understood my warning, his little face scrunched up and he burst into a piercing wail. I did a silent victory lap in my head. Perfect. I get the kid, he gets the bananas.

I scooped the baby up into my arms and gently patted his back to soothe him. But something was seriously wrong. The more I tried to rock him, the harder he screamed.

Chapter 3

I shot Rhys a desperate, SOS look. He calmly pulled out his phone. He opened Google.

[How to stop a newborn from crying.]

Son of a bitch. Completely useless. You would think an OB-GYN would at least know the absolute basics of soothing an infant.

I ended up calling my mom to come over and save the day. I forced Rhys to keep his own mother in the dark for now. Our moms had a toxic, explosive fallout during the divorce. If both of those women ended up in the same room, my kid would literally get torn in half.

The second my mom walked in and spotted Rhys, she started aggressively kissing his ass. Every other sentence she dropped was a thinly veiled hint that we should get back together.

Rhys let out a dry, arrogant scoff. He paused right at the door before leaving. "Why exactly do you think I would ever take your daughter back? I am young, I am highly capable, and the line of women waiting to have my baby stretches all the way to Paris."

My mom choked on her own breath, completely speechless.

I grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it straight at his head. "Get the hell out!" I yelled, pointing at the door.

I turned around to comfort my mom, fully expecting her to be devastated. Instead, she dropped this gem.

"Since when did Rhys get so insanely hot after the divorce? Seriously, Quinn, if you two had a little girl, do you think she would look as pretty as a Hollywood child star?"

My jaw tightened, words failing me. My mother was the ultimate opportunist. She would gladly sell her own dignity for spare change if it got her what she wanted.

While I was dead asleep, my mom literally kidnapped my son and marched straight over to Rhys's family home to demand recognition. His mother called me in an absolute rage, ordering me to come collect my mother and the kid immediately.

I dragged myself out of bed, caught an Uber, and pulled up to their apartment complex. Unsurprisingly, they lived in an older building, and the elevator was completely busted.

I stared up the dark stairwell, totally dreading this. I was generally tough, but tackling a massive hike barely a month after giving birth was absolute torture on my recovering body. But the second I pictured the murderous scowl on his mother's face, I gritted my teeth and started climbing.

Back during the divorce, my family was the one pushing the hardest. Rhys fought it, but his mother cared way too much about their social reputation. She forced his hand, bulldozing him into signing the papers against his will. She made it crystal clear that our families were dead to each other.

She practically promised that the next time she saw us, simply not spitting in our faces would be an act of extreme charity.

My mom was just as vicious, and they tore into each other like feral cats. Both of them were absolutely convinced they held the moral high ground. Bottom line, my divorce with Rhys was a catastrophic, toxic bloodbath.

And now, my mother was back on her bullshit, figuring my market value tanked now that I was a single mom. She was desperate to dump me back onto Rhys. She even offered to cough up thousands of dollars to cover the kid's future private preschool tuition, just as long as Rhys agreed to a remarriage.

I dragged my aching body up the final step to the sixth floor. My mom was aggressively shoving my baby into his mother's line of sight, desperately trying to get her to look. His mother rigidly turned her head away, her face twisting in pure disgust.

Honestly, she was the first grandmother I had ever met who actively loathed her own flesh and blood.

I pushed the door open, and my mom instantly snapped at me. "Quinn, get over here and apologize to your mother-in-law right now."

She frantically waved me over while simultaneously trying to sweet-talk Rhys's mom. "Look, we are all family here. The kids are not getting any younger, and now there is a baby involved. Let's just treat all that past drama like a bad joke and wipe the slate clean."

"As parents, we just want what is best for them, right?"

"My hands were tied back then! You cannot blame me for wanting to hold a grandchild before I die. Do you not agree?"

Chapter 4

Rhys's mother's face twisted into an ugly sneer. She took two sharp steps back and pointed a shaking, manicured finger straight at us.

"Oh, so your kid is a precious little angel, but my son is just garbage? Your daughter humiliated him! He could not eat or sleep for days because of the absolute disgrace she brought on our family. You think you can just walk out when it suits you and crawl back when you are desperate?"

"Do you really think my boy is that easy to walk all over? You should be on your knees thanking him for even agreeing to deliver that bastard."

"Remarriage? Over my dead body. Besides, the line of gorgeous, high-class women waiting to marry my son stretches around the block."

"Go find some other sucker to pay your bills. We are absolutely not claiming this kid. Trash breeds trash, and I am sure that baby inherited your family's exact same gold-digging, backstabbing DNA. We do not want it."

My mom reached out, her voice practically dripping with desperation. "Look, you are taking this too far! I was the one who forced Quinn to sign those papers! She is a good girl, I swear."

"I am the villain here, not her. Just give her one more chance!"

I stared at my mother, the blood rushing in my ears. She was literally letting this woman spit in our faces just to secure a safety net for me.

I stepped forward, clamped my hand around my mother's wrist like a vise, and dragged her toward the door. The humiliation burned the back of my throat like cheap whiskey. She was still babbling apologies as I yanked her down the hall, my teeth grinding so hard my jaw physically ached.

I shoved her into the back of a cab and slammed the door shut. I did not say a single word while she kept frantically muttering excuses the entire ride.

The second my apartment door clicked shut, the dam completely broke.

I threw my keys onto the counter. "Was that really necessary? I am not some damaged goods nobody wants! Plenty of single moms do just fine, and I make my own money."

"Why the hell do I have to grovel like a beggar?"

She quietly carried the baby into the nursery, then walked out and pulled me down onto the sofa. The fight drained out of her.

"What are you going to do when the kids at school call him a fatherless loser?" she asked, her voice cracking. "What happens when he comes home crying, asking why everyone else has a dad and he does not? How are you going to explain that? How many decent guys out there are actually willing to raise another man's kid?"

"Count them for me, Quinn."

The words felt like a direct punch to the gut, because I knew she was bleeding her own trauma all over me. She raised me entirely alone. I never even knew my father's name.

My entire childhood consisted of her dragging me by the hand from one miserable diner date to another, desperately trying to find a man to step up, only for every single one of them to bolt.

My throat tightened instantly. I watched a heavy tear spill over her lash line and drop onto her collar, completely paralyzing me.

I exhaled a shaky breath, letting the silence stretch between us. "Mom, you are completely right. But you have to understand, I just want a normal, peaceful life. Do you honestly believe, after all the toxic garbage we have dragged each other through, that Rhys and I could ever actually be happy?"

She looked at me, her lips trembling slightly. "No. But it would be a hell of a lot easier."

I shook my head, staring blankly at the coffee table. "Mom, there is absolutely nothing easy about it."

Rhys and I never had that burning, all-consuming love to begin with; we only tolerated each other because our families pushed for it. After the absolute bloodbath of our divorce, spinning the block was pure fiction. I would honestly rather roll the dice on a complete stranger than subject myself to his suffocating presence again.

I told her I just needed time. I would eventually find some decent, average guy. Maybe he would be a forty-year-old divorcee, maybe he would already have a couple of kids and a mortgage. It did not matter.

Eventually, someone would be willing to take on my messy baggage.

Chapter 5

My mom was desperate to see me settled, and I did not have the luxury of time, so I packed my schedule with back-to-back blind dates. Sure enough, once the dating app's match consultant reviewed my profilesingle mom status includedthe quality of the men immediately tanked.

I stared at the man sitting across from me. He was sporting a pathetic comb-over that made my stomach churn.

"I have a son," I said, putting my cards right on the table.

He gave a greasy smile and nodded. "I know. I have one too."

"I have a solid job, my own place, and a decent income. I am just looking for a father figure for my kid. Nothing more." I kept it brutally direct.

Nobody at these setups was looking for a fairy-tale romance anyway.

His creepy smirk widened, sending a violent shudder down my spine. "That is perfect. I think I am a great fit. We can spend some time bonding with my boy later tonight."

Tonight? Bonding already?

I raised an eyebrow. "How old is your son exactly?"

"Thirty."

Holy shit. His son was thirty? That put this fossil well into his fifties. I shook my head, already grabbing my purse.

That age gap was a hard pass. I needed to pull the ripcord on this date immediately.

Just as I slid out of the booth, a heavy hand groped my thigh under the table. I snapped my head down. A grown man was literally crawling on the floor beneath us. A scream ripped from my throat as I jumped back.

"What the hell? Who are you?"

The creep on the floor flashed a dim-witted, unsettling grin. "Mommy, mommy, I am your good boy." He started drooling and forcefully rubbing himself against my leg.

I tried to kick him off and shot a furious glare at the old man to call off his freak of a son. But the geezer was just casually sipping his coffee.

"Just a little family bonding. What are you so afraid of?"

I gripped the edge of the table, fighting the urge to rip out his remaining three hairs. These people were psychopaths.

But the giant man-child was still aggressively pawing at me. He looked slow, but his grip was like a vice. He lunged upward, aiming straight for my chest.

I snatched my heavy ceramic mug of hot coffee off the table, fully prepared to smash it completely over this lunatic's skull. But the old creep owned this caf, and he had already cleared out the staff. Panic flared hot in my chest.

Suddenly, a familiar figure in a crisp white doctor's coat materialized in my peripheral vision.

"Get your filthy hands off her."

A heavy leather shoe slammed into the man-child's chest, sending him crashing into the opposite booth. Without missing a beat, Rhys stepped down hard, grinding his leather dress shoe directly into the creep's ribs like he was putting out a cheap cigarette.

I am not going to lie, seeing this usually sterile, emotionally repressed doctor unleash such ruthless violence was instantly, undeniably hot.

Rhys clamped his hand around my wrist and pulled me toward the door. As we passed the old man's table, I dug my heels in.

Rhys furrowed his perfectly straight brows. "What? You want to stay and exchange numbers?"

His tone dripped with pure condescension. I rolled my eyes, reached over, and grabbed a fistful of the old man's pathetic comb-over. I yanked hard.

"Ahhh!" he shrieked.

Holy crap. It was actually his real hair.

"Are you really that desperate to find a new dad for my son?" Rhys demanded. He was sitting in the driver's seat of his SUV, his face an absolute thundercloud.

He had apparently just been dealing with a pregnant woman whose water broke on the sidewalk outside. He threw on his coat, ran a quick check, and called an ambulance. The glass door swung open, and he stormed in, his eyes locking instantly on the degenerate cornering me.

His question hung in the heavy air between us.

Honestly, he hit the nail on the head. I was backed into a corner. If I did not lock down a new guy fast, my mother was going to move into his living room and force a reunion. I gave him a stiff nod.

"Do not you have a whole line of Parisian supermodels just waiting to have your babies?" I shot back, crossing my arms. "You must be pretty busy yourself."

Chapter 6

Rhys glanced over at me, his expression practically screaming that I was an absolute idiot.

"You went to my place?"

"Yeah."

I figured his mother had already called to file a formal complaint. I quickly added, "For the record, I did not bully your mother, and I am not after your alimony."

"How did you get up there?" Rhys completely ignored my weak defense and shifted the topic.

"The stairs. How else? Do not you know what your own apartment complex is like?"

For some reason, when he turned his head to look at me, a flicker of something dangerously close to heartache flashed across his dark eyes.

"If two grown women want to rip each other's throats out, let them. Why would you drag yourself into the crossfire? Are you eighty years old too?"

I shook my head.

"You are awfully chatty today. What exactly is your point?" I shot back. I had zero interest in refereeing two unhinged mothers. If his mom had not summoned me to collect mine, I never would have witnessed his family's toxic attitude firsthand.

"My point is I do not trust anyone else to raise my son." He paused, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "How about"

I cut him off, my voice spiking in pitch. "Screw you! You want to steal my son? Not a chance in hell!"

"You contributed a single sperm and got off for five minutes, and now you want to snatch the baby I carried for ten agonizing months? Keep dreaming! Pull the damn car over!"

"Pull over!"

"Stop the damn car right now!"

By the time I finally made it back to my apartment, both my mom and the baby were dead asleep. The apartment was completely peaceful. I quickly freshened up, heated some leftover soup from the fridge, and headed out for my afternoon date.

But of course, my luck was absolute garbage. I ran into Rhys again.

He was parked right outside my building, leaning against the hood of his SUV with his arms crossed. His hair was flawlessly styled, and he looked dangerously sharp. If I did not know any better, I would have guessed he was heading to a blind date himself.

I walked right past him, aiming straight for the curb to hail a cab. The less contact I had with him, the better. I was not about to give him any opening to scheme his way into stealing my kid.

"Stop," Rhys called out to my retreating back.

I ignored him and quickened my pace.

"Quinn. If you do not stop walking, I am heading straight upstairs to your apartment."

Ha. A direct threat. He won.

It turned out Rhys was actually going on a blind date. He claimed she was the daughter of one of his mother's friends, fresh off a flight from Paris. Apparently, she had a massive childhood crush on him and practically sprinted to contact his mother the second she graduated.

The girl did not even care that he was a divorced man; she headed straight from the airport to the coffee shop.

When I stepped out of the Uber, my own date texted to say he was stuck in traffic and running late. I figured I would just wait inside the caf. But as luck would have it, there was exactly one four-top table left in the entire place.

Before I could even protest, Rhys grabbed my elbow and dragged me right into the booth, sitting us directly across from the French-import girl.

He offered her a flawlessly polite smile. "Cassidy, this is my ex-wife. You do not mind, do you?"

Are you kidding me? Of course she minds! This was not Rhys's first time at the rodeo; how could he casually drop a bomb like that? But I severely underestimated my opponent.

The sweet little Paris import turned out to be an absolute piece of work.

"Oh my, you must be the ex-wife! You must be so exhausted from taking care of Rhys these past two years. Your skin looks terribly dull."

"Rhys is just terrible. He only cares about his work and completely neglected you. Just look at you! You do not even look forty, you practically look like my mother's age."

She pouted playfully at him. "You better not treat me like that in the future, Rhys."

Right. I was twenty-eight.

Breathe in, breathe out. Do not pop a blood vessel over a basic bitch. Nobody was going to pay my medical bills.

I swallowed my rising fury and took a massive gulp of my hot coffee.

And then, I spat the entire mouthful directly into Cassidy's perfectly powdered face.

Chapter 7

"Oh my, why does this coffee smell like a pungent mix of cheap perfume and manipulative pick-me energy?"

"Oops, clumsy me. Did I burn you?" I grabbed a napkin and aggressively dabbed at her face with mock concern.

Damn right I did it on purpose. I was pushing thirty; I was not about to let some fresh-out-of-college brat try to humble me. I had already spotted the acne scars desperately hidden under her heavy foundation anyway. A little hot coffee was the perfect makeup remover.

Cassidy forced a tight smile. "It is totally fine. You just sit and rest. I will go clean up in the restroom."

"It is completely normal for your brain to be a little defective right after giving birth."

She grabbed a handful of napkins and strutted off toward the ladies' room, heavily swinging her hips.

Damn it. Did I just lose that round?

Rhys had been glued to the medical documents on his phone since he introduced us, completely checking out of the conversation. So, all he actually witnessed was me violently spraying hot liquid directly into his date's face.

He opened his mouth.

I cut him off before he could start. "You forced me into this booth. She started the toxic garbage. Do not even try playing the white knight defending the helpless victim, or I swear I will spray you next."

I shot a pointed glare at the remaining coffee in my cup.

Rhys just stared at me. He slowly reached out, pulled a napkin from the metal dispenser, and reached across the table. He brushed it lightly against my bottom lip and then trailed down toward the coffee stain on my chest.

"Yeah, your brain is definitely misfiring," he murmured. "You attack someone else and still manage to get yourself filthy." His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine. "How am I supposed to trust you to raise my son?"

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was this another twisted angle to snatch custody? I swatted his hand away and scrambled out of the booth, heading straight for the restroom.

Because I was leaking breast milk.

I had specifically worn a dark blouse to hide any accidents, but when Rhys leaned in that close, he definitely noticed. His typically cold gaze fractured, his hand freezing mid-air just inches from the dark stain on my chest.

The tension was suffocatingly awkward. I basically sprinted to the bathroom.

I practically collided with my actual blind date right outside the restroom doors.

"Wow you are still in your recovery phase, huh?"

He dragged his eyes up and down my body with blatant discomfort, his hand instinctively coming up to cover his nose.

I gave a stiff nod.

"Well maybe we can catch up some other time?"

I nodded again.

There was absolutely zero chance of a next time. The sheer panic etched into his face screamed that this was a dead end. I knew the score; these setups required mutual interest. I did not even have the energy to be offended.

On paper, he was a solid catchdecent income, owned a car, average looks. He probably only agreed to meet because my own stats matched or slightly beat his.

Cassidy caught me in the hallway and physically dragged me back to their booth. She claimed she wanted me to act as a witness for their date.

I stared at her, my mind stalling. Dragging the ex-wife along to spectate a blind date was a new level of unhinged. Apparently, studying abroad really broadened a girl's horizons.

I slumped back into the booth, reluctantly grabbing a mini cupcake from the tiered tray on the table and shoving it into my mouth. Honestly, I was starving. The only thing I had stomached all day was a bowl of my mom's chicken soup. I had zero appetite earlier, but staring at these little cakes, my self-control completely evaporated.

"Oh wow, the ex-wife sure loves her sweets," Cassidy chirped. "Rhys is the exact opposite. He absolutely hates sugar."

I put on a fake smile and nodded. She was not wrong. Rhys despised anything sweet.

Chapter 8