Page 321 of Sinister

“You’re wearing the school uniform. And you do look young.”

I blink. My mouth parts as I realize why those girls had looked at me like that. They thought . . .

“They are jealous,” he confirms my thoughts. “They’re now whispering about Rren, how hot he looks.”

“Of course he does. He’s my handsome baby, and he does take after his father.” I bat my lashes at Sin.

He pulls me in his arms and gives me a long, rather passionate kiss. As he pulls back, I’m all flushed and flustered, and my brain is mush. It takes me a moment to realize that now the parents are gasping and whispering about teenagers these days and criticizing our PDA.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t have worn the uniforms after all,” I mutter.

Sin smirks. I know what he’s thinking: I told you so.

I grab him by the hand and lead him to our section in the bleachers, hoping we will not attract any more attention. Goodness mine, I only wanted a fun little adventure. I did not realize the optics of it.

We take our seats while the school principal comes onto the stage and starts his speech.

“How do you feel being here again?” I ask Sin as I snuggle closer to him.

“Can’t say I missed it much. The only bright side of high school was you.”

I laugh. “Who told you to pretend to be a high school student at your advanced age?”

He glances at me and raises a brow. “And allow you to experience high school without me? No way in hell. I had firsthand experience at how horny and debauched high school students are. I wasn’t about to risk you finding some fucker to experiment with.”

He wrinkles his nose in disgust, and I can already tell he’s remembering that time, quite long ago, when I’d lied to him about other guys. He’d been beside himself thinking his stalking had failed. Although I don’t even know how he could ever think that, when I later found out that he was watching me almost all the time.

It would be quite creepy, really, if it weren’t so romantic.

Alas, I happen to like his stalker-ish tendencies since I happen to have some myself. Now, almost two decades later, I’m more than sure I would have done the same—hell, I think he had more restraint than I would have had in some situations.

“You did well,” I praise him gently, laying my head on his shoulder as we watch the rest of the speech.

When the principal is finally done, it’s time for the graduates to receive their diplomas.

I take out my phone while Sin prepares his camera to take pictures of our darling boy.

The names are called. Rren is the third one.

My chest is full of emotion as I watch my boy, all grown up, finishing school and ready to go out into the world. Oh, Lord, I mustn’t tear up.

I snap picture after picture to make sure I capture every single second of the event.

Rren shakes hands with the principal, takes his diploma, and prepares to walk off the stage. I take another picture.

But . . . something is wrong. He’s a bit too pale.

“Sin,” I whisper, my voice full of horror.

He’s noticed the same thing I did. Quickly rising to his feet, he takes my hand and leads me away from the bleachers. He makes eye contact with Rren and signals for him to meet us outside.

We quickly get away from all the commotion, and I’m surprised to see Sin taking me to a very familiar place—the gardener’s shed.

We get there first, with Rren coming inside a couple of minutes later.

He is pale, his lips a little blue.

“You overexerted yourself,” I say in a chiding motherly voice.