Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 611

Mia was fuming, her teeth clenched as she swung the car door open. She threw a warning over her shoulder at her husband, “You’re on thin ice for lying to me. Make sure our son’s tucked in nice and warm; we don’t need him catching a cold.”

With that, she stormed toward the school building, a blur as she breezed past the old professor and plopped down into her seat like a shadow.

The professor chimed in, “Principal, the school's track and field day is coming up. Fancy signing up for the marathon?”

The whole class turned to look at Mia, seated at the back.

Glued to her phone, chatting with her husband, she was oblivious until someone nudged her. Looking up, bewildered, she managed a “Huh?” as if she had missed a question.

The professor, taking her confusion for agreement, cheerily announced, “Then let’s congratulate our principal in advance for securing the win!”

Mia was lost, “What? What just happened?”

By the end of the class, the realization of what she had unwittingly agreed to sank in. She was filled with regret and too distracted to pay attention to the lesson.

After school, she bolted to the car, only to find her son still sleeping and her husband with a look of resignation. “Didn’t I tell you to wake him up?”

Mia was at a loss on where to even start with her husband.

Andre shrugged, “Tried waking him, short of shaking him awake.”

“Might as well have!” Mia retorted.

Andre then carefully transferred their son into Mia’s arms, “Your turn.”

Looking down at her son’s cherubic, peacefully sleeping face, the world seemed serene and beautiful through his innocence. Mia couldn’t bring herself to wake him, “Honey, I got roped into signing up for the marathon by the professor, ugh, it’s just terrible.”

She recounted her ordeal to her husband, her spirits dampening at the thought, “I can’t do it. Let’s pretend I’m sick that day, you could get a doctor’s note for me…”

Andre cut in, “They’ve canceled the marathon this year.”

Mia’s spirits lifted instantly, her sobs ceasing as she turned to him in shock.

Andre steered the car towards the barbershop, “With a word from Mia, the marathon is off.”

Mia couldn’t help but smile, “Right!”

There was a newfound joy in wielding such influence.

“For the first time, I’ve felt the thrill of power,” Mia confessed gleefully as they drove, “You’re so smart, love you. But, we still have an account to settle.”

Andre quipped, “Where’s the barbershop again?”

“Take a left at the next corner, then a right at the third traffic light, two blocks down.”

…

They arrived at the barbershop, its lights shining bright, a two-story building that screamed chic from every angle. The white walls contrasted with the shop's name and logo in bold black letters.

Mia mentioned, “Had my hair done here before, saw a kid getting a haircut, they’re pretty good.”

As they parked, their son woke up, stretching and scrunching his face, ready to face the world.

The buzzing of the clippers only made him more uncooperative, his tiny body tensing in protest.

Every time the stylist attempted to start, the little one’s wriggling made it impossible to proceed. “Look, a teddy bear,” even the stylist tried to soothe him.

Mia, heart aching, cradled her son, “Shh, it’s okay, mommy’s here, and daddy’s right beside us, protecting you.”

Andre, watching his son’s tears, felt his resolve soften, the strict uncle he once was replaced by a tender-hearted father.

“Let’s be brave, my little man, no tears, want mommy to tell you a story?”

Their son, amidst strangers, continued to sob, seeking comfort in his parents’ presence.

Andre sighed, removed the barber cape, and lifted his son, cradling him close to wipe away his tears, “Henry, it’s okay, isn’t daddy here with you?”

Mia stood, unable to bear it, “I can’t, I just can’t hold him down.”

Andre settled back with his son in his arms, proposing to the stylist, “No cape, I’ll hold him, just like this, on my shoulder.”

The stylist warned, “Mr. Cedillo, you’ll get hair all over you.”

Andre didn’t mind, “It’s just hair, my son’s hair. What father would mind?”

In that moment, the essence of family, love, and the bonds that tie them together shone through, a testament to the lengths parents will go to for their child's comfort.

Without the scary cloak, the little one no longer had to lock eyes with those terrifying figures. His little mouth was turned down in a pout, but the tears had stopped.