I slipped my fingers deeper between his legs, cupping his balls deliberately. His legs spread a little wider beneath the table, silently accommodating the movement.
“Why is it I have too much shame and you have none?” I grumbled.
“See, we balance one another out,” he murmured calmly.“Just imagine—our child would be the perfect creation.”
His voice lowered just as my parents reentered the room.
The table was finally laid out. Plates, cutlery, glasses—all perfectly arranged as if this were any other family dinner.
Maddox released my hand.
My parents were both watching us now.
The tension at the table thickened instantly. Everyone seemed uneasy.
Everyone except Maddox.
To keep the situation from combusting immediately, I reached for the serving dishes and began plating food.
Relief washed over me when the others followed suit.
For a few seconds, the only sounds were cutlery and shifting plates.
Then my mother struck.
“So,” she sniffed, lifting her fork.“Where are you living these days?”
“She’s living with me,” Maddox said casually, biting into a piece of gravy-soaked chicken.“Mm.”
My father froze mid-cut.
“She is living with you?” he asked, waving his knife vaguely in the air.
“How is that possible? You can’t—Tobias! Is that allowed? He is double her age,” my mother chimed in.
My mother’s voice rose sharply, slicing through the room like broken glass.
“Tobias, why aren’t you saying something?”
I sighed and scooped up some mashed potatoes with a limp carrot dangling off my fork.
My dad cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Dr Lexington… should you be fraternising with your patients?”
“Yes! That’s it,” my mother snapped, leaning forward triumphantly.“You could lose your licence.”
I cut into the chicken on my plate, prying it apart.
It looked dry.
Maddox’s chicken was always juicy.
I was still learning how to cook. My mother had never liked me in her kitchen.
Maddox dabbed his lips with his napkin before responding calmly.
“Stella isn’t my patient.”
