Sweet Love 2x: Miss Ruthless CEO for our Superstar Uncle

Chapter 402: One Month Old

Lexx was one month old.

The time had passed in a blur of feedings and diaper changes and sleepless nights that Franz honestly didn’t mind as much as he’d expected to. He had learned to function on less sleep than he’d ever thought possible. He had learned that a baby could produce an astonishing amount of laundry. He had learned that Lexx had a particular cry for hunger, a different cry for discomfort, and a third cry that seemed to mean nothing at all except that he wanted to be held. Mostly, he had learned that he was absolutely, completely, irrevocably in love with his son.

The livestream had been scheduled for weeks. It was his first since announcing the hiatus, the first time he’d appeared in front of his fans as Noah Hart since the interview where he’d confirmed he was stepping back from acting. The fans had been patient. They had been supportive. They had flooded his social media with messages of encouragement and understanding and, occasionally, pleas for him to return as soon as possible.

He settled into his chair in the study, adjusted his headset, and went live.

The comments began scrolling before his face had fully appeared on screen.

HE’S HERE. NOAH’S HERE. WE MISSED YOU.

Is it really him? Is this real? It’s been so long!

Sister-in-law! How is sister-in-law!

Franz smiled at the camera. "Good afternoon. Yes, it’s really me. I know it’s been a while. I’ve missed you all too."

The comments accelerated. He caught fragments as they flew past: questions about the hiatus, questions about Arianne, questions about when he’d be back on screen. He moved through them with the easy warmth he’d cultivated over years of public appearances.

"I’m doing well. Thank you for asking. I’ve been spending a lot of time with my family. It’s been exactly what I needed."

He paused, reading a comment that scrolled past. "Someone asked about Arianne. She’s also doing well. She says hello. Well, she didn’t say hello. But she would, if she were here. She’s in the other room right now, probably reading something important."

More comments. More questions. He answered what he could, deflected what he couldn’t, and kept the tone light and warm. There was a rhythm to it that his body remembered even after months away: the half-second pause before answering, the adjustment of tone when a comment was testing him rather than engaging, the choice of which questions to read aloud and which to let scroll past. He had built this skill over years, and it came back to him as naturally as breathing.

"I do have some news. The post-production on the second season of The Second Cut is officially complete. It’s going to air very soon—the network will announce the date in the next few weeks. I’ll be attending some promotional events for it, so I’ll get to see some of you in person. I’m looking forward to that."

The comments exploded with excitement. Franz smiled and let them scroll past, reading a few aloud, responding to the ones that caught his eye. He’d missed this: the connection with his fans, the particular energy of a livestream. He hadn’t known how much until right now.

After the stream ended, he sat in his study without moving. The computer screen was dark. The comments had stopped. The room had gone the way rooms go when something that was loud becomes empty. He thought about the warmth of that hour, the hundreds of names scrolling past, the feeling of being seen by people who had been waiting for him. Then he thought about Arianne, probably in the bedroom with a pen behind her ear, frowning at a quarterly projection.

He went out to find her.

She was in the bedroom, propped against the headboard with a stack of documents spread across her lap. She was reading something that required a pen, which was tucked behind her ear, and her brow was furrowed in the particular expression she wore when she was absorbing complex financial information.

She looked up when he came in. "How was the stream?"

"Good. The fans say hello."

She set down the document she’d been reading. "I’m preparing for the board meeting. Your father sent over the quarterly projections. They’re optimistic."

"You’re going back to work."

"Gradually. Gio has been handling most of it, but some things require my signature." She paused. "I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a while."

Franz nodded. He’d known this was coming. Arianne had never been someone who could remain idle for long, and three months of maternity leave—leave that had started even before she gave birth—had been both necessary and, he suspected, maddening for her. She loved their son. She loved being home with him. But she also loved her work, and she was good at it, and she was ready to return.

His attention moved to the small figure beside her.

Lexx was asleep on his back, his arms flung out to either side, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. He was wearing a soft blue onesie with a dinosaur on the front, a gift from Sam. His dark hair, thick and unruly, stuck up in every direction. His cheeks were round and full, his arms and legs dimpled with the healthy chubbiness of a baby who had been eating well.

Franz lay down on the bed beside him, propping his head on one elbow. He didn’t speak. He just watched.

"When did he get so big?" he asked.

"He’s been growing for a month. That’s how babies work."

"I know. But look at him. His cheeks. His legs. He has actual rolls now."

"He’s well-fed. You’ve been very dedicated to the feedings."

"He’s been very dedicated to the eating."

Lexx stirred at the sound of Franz’s voice. His arms stretched above his head, his tiny fingers uncurling. His legs kicked twice. His eyes didn’t open, but his head turned toward Franz, his mouth making a small, reflexive movement.

"He knows your voice," Arianne said.

"He’s known my voice since before he was born. I’ve been singing to him for months."

"You sang to him this morning. I heard you. Something about the stars."

Lexx stretched again, his eyes fluttering open for a breath before closing. He made a soft sound—not a cry, just a noise, the kind of noise babies make when they’re half-asleep and vaguely aware that someone is nearby.

"He cries more when you’re not around," Franz said.

"I know. Aunt Estella mentioned it."

"It’s because you’ve been with him from the beginning. When you’re gone, he notices."

"It’s normal. All babies do it."

"I know it’s normal. I’m just saying." He reached out and touched Lexx’s hand. The baby’s fingers curled around his, the grip surprising for someone so small. "He loves you. You’re his mother."

Arianne set the documents aside entirely, her attention moving fully to the baby between them.

"I know. I love him too. More than I thought I could."

"Were you worried? That you wouldn’t?"

"I was terrified. You know I was terrified."

"But you’re not anymore."

"No." She looked at Lexx, her expression soft in a way she didn’t bother to guard. "I’m not."