Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 1645

“My baby wants Daddy to put on his shoes. If Daddy doesn’t, I’m not leaving!” came Henry’s stubborn little threat.

He tucked his tiny feet away and peered out the window, calling out in his sweet baby voice, “Daddy, come put your baby’s shoes on!”

Andre looked at his son, who’d clearly picked up a few tricks, and said, “If I don’t help you, I guess you’re staying right here.” He acted like he was really about to leave.

Henry wasn’t having it. He slid off the bench, bare feet slapping the floor, pajama pants dragging behind, and dashed after his dad—who, let’s be honest, was walking extra slow on purpose.

He clung tightly to Andre’s leg, chubby arms locked around it, smooshing his little cheek against the suit pants. “Daddy doesn’t love me anymore!” he wailed, putting on his best heartbroken act.

Just like his mom—if sweet talk doesn’t work, it’s time for the dramatic accusations.

Andre glanced at his son’s pouty face, then caught Mia hurrying over with Henry’s shoes in hand. Her cheeks were rosy as she handed them off. “Honey, just help him put his shoes on. Don’t let him fuss. You know he’s our little drama king—he needs his pampering.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, gotta spoil me.”

Andre couldn’t help but smile. He crouched down, scooped up his pretend-crying son, and slipped the tiny sandals onto his feet with practiced hands.

Henry was satisfied now and had zero interest in walking. He wrapped his arms around Andre’s neck and, pajamas still a mess, happily settled in to be carried away.

At dinner, Mia and Henry barely touched their food.

Andre, ever the detective, put down his fork. “So, what snacks did you two have today?”

Andre’s jaw grew tighter with every snack listed. “So you two just sat there all afternoon and snacked?”

Mia looked sheepish. The other moms spent the whole time filming their kids and cheering them on, but Mia? She sat to the side, working her way through a mountain of snacks.

However long Henry trained, she munched along.

Other kids were crying, struggling to throw punches and kicks, making slow progress under the coach’s guidance.

But her little guy? He marched right up, didn’t even wait for instructions, shouted his own “hiya!” and let loose with his baby punches and kicks—adorable, quick, and all heart.