The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 230

Chapter 230 You’re a lifecerer

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The Tins Tare Tornado restaurang Gullout the a rotting mom yonu Bite of chard cline in the walls, cater decorated the table like shetract, and enterra betsen the appetizer and math cotrok, my radnim bart transformed bunch lite an Olymple level disaster event

“Men!” Alexander proclaimed, a tortilla chip talesced precariously on his none. “I’m going to be the world‘ e

messiest chef!”

Ethan, ran the supportive brother, grabbed another chip. “I’ll be gone tona chef. We’ll be the muredest corking team ever!”

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Gas sat underneath the table, a furry cleamp crew with a tail that wagged a metronome, catching every single marul that escaped the boys chaotic eating ritual.

“Boys,” I sighed, reaching for what felt like the hundredth napkin, “there’s a difference between being creativ and creating a disaster zone

“But Mom,” Alexander said, the chip sliding down his face and landing with a sad plop on his plate,” exploren are messy! Uncle Nate says so!”

I couldn’t help but laugh My brother had a lot to answer for with these culinary theories.

The restaurant’s young server approached, looking both terrified and secretly amused. “Can I get you anything else?”

Gas let out a dramatic sigh, his head resting dramatically on my foot, as if he’d been through the most challenging mission of his life.

“Just the check,” I said, trying to maintain some dignity. “And maybe a mop”

“Ice cream!” the twins shouted in perfect unison.

“One scoop,” I negotiated. “Each To share.”

“With Gas?” Ethan asked, his big brown eyes looking up with the kind of puppy dog expression that could melt the North Pole.

“Gas gets a tiny taste,” I compromised.

The server grinned. “Looks like you’ve got quite the adventure team here.”

“Adventure team is an understatement,” I muttered. “More like a Category 5 hurricane with legs.”

Wrangling the boys into their jackets was an Olympic sport. Alexander insisted on wearing his jacket backwards (“It’s my superhero cape, Mom!“), while Ethan carefully arranged his coat exactly the way I’d shown him, with a precision that made my architect’s heart proud,

“Gas needs a jacket too,” Ethan announced, his voice filled with serious concern.

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Chapter 230 You’re a lifesaver

“Gas has fur,” I explained for what felt like the millionth time. “He’s got his own built–in jacket.”

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“But what if he’s cold?” Alexander argued, his lower lip jutting out in that patented four–year–old protest pose.

Gas, completely unbothered, wagged his tail and looked up with his perpetually optimistic golden retriever smile.

The drive home was a sensory explosion. Their favorite playlist–a bizarre mix of dinosaur–themed songs and space exploration tunes–blasted through the car speakers.

“Mom!” Alexander suddenly shouted over the music. “Tell us the Gas story again!”

I smiled, a story I’d told countless times but never tired of repeating. “Well, when you were still in my belly, I was at a construction site-!!

“What’s a construction site?” Ethan interrupted, his curious mind always searching for more information. “It’s where they build big buildings,” I explained. “Like the ones I design. Architects create the plans, and construction workers make those plans come to life.”

Alexander’s eyes went wide. “Like magic?”

“Not magic,” I corrected. “Science and creativity. Planning and hard work.”

“Skyscrapers?” Ethan leaned forward, his face inches from my ear.

“Exactly like skyscrapers,” I laughed.

The music shifted to a baby shark song. The twins began their now–familiar routine of singing and acting out.

Gas howled along, creating a prehistoric concert.

As we drove, I watched them in the rearview mirror. Alexander, always in motion, drumming on his car seat with an energy that could power a small city. Ethan, more contemplative, watching the city streets go by with those serious eyes that seemed to take in everything.

T YOU

“Mom,” Ethan said suddenly, his voice dropping to a whisper. think Gas misses his old life?”

The question caught me off guard. These moments happened sometimes–when their curiosity about the world went deeper than I expected.

“Gas loves us,” I said carefully. “He’s part of our family now.”

“But before us?” Alexander chimed in. “Where was he?”

I paused, choosing my words carefully. The truth was complicated–Gas had been abandoned, left near a half- finished building site. But they were too young for those harsh details.

“Some dogs don’t have traditional families,” I explained gently. “But Gas found his family. He found us.”

“And we love him!” Alexander declared friumphantly.

Gas, as if on cue, let out a happy bark from the back seat.

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