#337

Mattheo was currently standing in the doorway of the sitting room holding an enormous bouquet of sunflowers like a boy who’d rehearsed this moment in his head.

Y/N looked up from the sofa and froze.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Matty my dear…”

Tom, seated beside her, immediately narrowed his eyes.

“Why,” he asked flatly, “does my grown son have flowers.”

Mattheo ignored him completely and crossed the room, placing the bouquet gently into Y/N’s hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“For you, Mum.”

Her face softened instantly.

She stood and pulled him into a hug without hesitation, sunflowers pressed awkwardly between them.

“You don’t have to do this, love,” she murmured, kissing his cheek. “You know that.”

Mattheo shrugged, entirely unapologetic. “Theo may be my current Valentine,” he said easily, “but I’ll never forget my first.”

Tom made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a deeply offended sigh.

“Absolutely not,” he muttered. “That is not how that works.”

Y/N laughed softly against Mattheo’s shoulder, hugging him tighter for a moment before pulling back to cup his face.

“You’ve always been sweet,” she said fondly. “Even when you pretend you’re not.”

Mattheo smirked. “Learned from you.”

Tom stood abruptly.

“I would like it officially noted,” he said, placing a possessive hand at Y/N’s waist, “that I married her and I am still the love of her life.”

Mattheo raised a brow. “Jealous of your own son?”

“Deeply,” Tom replied without shame.

Y/N just laughed, hugging Mattheo again with the bouquet between them while Tom hovered nearby like an overprotective dragon, glaring at the flowers as if considering confiscation.