Faux Vows, True Desires novel Chapter 480

Janice peered at her son's face, her eyes searching for signs of deception as she asked him yet again about the girl. She could tell Keith wasn't lying.

With a hint of disappointment, she said, "It's a shame you've met a girl you actually admire, and you don't even have a foot in the door yet."

Then, brightening up, she added, "No worries, just keep seeing her. Who knows, sparks might fly eventually. I have this feeling you two might just end up together."

Keith let out a long sigh. "Mom, how can I keep seeing her when I don't even know who she is or what she looks like? And what if she's married? She might have kids old enough to be raiding the cookie jar."

Janice was at a loss for words.

"Mom, I'm still young. There's no rush to settle down, especially with our family situation, which you're well aware of. I don't want to drag someone else's daughter into this mess. Give it a few years, and we'll see. And if you're itching for grandkids that bad, why don't you pester Lucy and Stefan to get a move on and have a baby?"

"I wouldn't mind being an uncle," Keith added with a playful grin.

Janice sighed, "I guess I'm the one getting ahead of myself. You're right, considering the current state of our family, it might be better for you to wait a few more years to tie the knot."

"Mom, it's our family," Keith emphasized.

Janice fell silent, then said, "When I get back, I'll talk to your father about the divorce. If he refuses, I'll file for it myself."

"Mom, Dad's got his reasons," Keith tried to interject.

"I don't care about his reasons. He's neglected us for over two decades, left me to be ridiculed and tormented by that Kayla Ashley. Just thinking about all the years of hardship makes it impossible for me to forgive him."

"No, I don't hate him. Hating him would only amuse him. I feel nothing for him anymore, I just want to be free of him and have nothing to do with him."

That was the thing about indifference—it often came when love and hate had both faded away.

Deep down, Janice knew she still harbored resentment toward Nathan, yet she couldn't bring herself to be entirely indifferent.

After a long silence, Keith didn't try to persuade his mother further. He couldn't fully comprehend the pain his father had caused her.

Changing the subject, he told her about the previous night. "Last night, Dad had a bit to drink, might've been a little tipsy. He ended up crashing in your room, clutching your pillow all night."

Janice's face darkened as she muttered something under her breath, too low for Keith to catch.

"It's getting late, Mom. I'm heading to bed. You should get some rest too."

With his mother's focus successfully shifted to his father, Keith made a hasty retreat.

Janice grumbled to herself, "Clever boy, thinking I don't know he did that on purpose."

She wasn't fooled anymore.

That girl Keith had mentioned intrigued her; she seemed just right for her son. But who was she, what did she look like, and was she married?

The wedding proceeded as usual until it was time for the bride to toss the bouquet. Lucinda, already married, couldn't participate, so she cast a glance at her brother Keith, who immediately started backing away, wanting no part in catching the bouquet.

Nathan, who had flown in that morning to attend the wedding of his new relatives, noticed his son's reluctance. He whispered to one of his bodyguards, "Trip him up a little, make sure my boy catches that bouquet."

After all, catching the bouquet was a sign of forthcoming happiness, and perhaps it even meant that Keith would be the next in line to marry.

Nathan's own marriage was nothing to write home about, but he had high hopes that his son would find a slice of happiness that had eluded him.

The bodyguards exchanged uneasy glances.

The head of the family had spoken, and they had their orders to assist, like it or not.

Their greatest fear was catching the proverbial hot potato—the bridal bouquet—and incurring Nathan's wrath.

The groomsmen, most of whom weren't too keen on walking down the aisle themselves anytime soon, regarded the bouquet in Tiffany's hands as if it were a ticking time bomb. Owen, on the other hand, was rubbing his hands with glee, ready to showcase his nimble reflexes and catch the bouquet, thereby sealing his fate as the next in line for matrimonial bliss.

With a beaming smile and closed eyes, Tiffany flung the bridal bouquet over her shoulder with all her might.

Whoever it landed on would be dubbed the lucky one.

Nathan's personal guards, as if on cue, leaped into action, each trying to bat the bouquet toward the young master, ensuring that fate—or at least, the next wedding—would be his.