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He threw himself into his dad’s path, struck a dramatic martial-arts pose, and demanded a sparring match in the hallway.

While Raff blocked the doorway with a flurry of kickboxing moves, I hobbled across the kitchen and pressed myself against the refrigerator door to hide the cake within.

Deacon raised one eyebrow at our son, then at me, as I handed him his drink and blocked his view of the fridge.

His eyes glittered with suspicion even as his lips quirked.

‘You’re all up to something,’ he declared, sauntering away as we sniggered behind his back.

That evening, we gathered around the long table for a celebratory feast of grilled sea bass and saffron paella Simon and Davon prepared.

When Raff carried the candlelit cake into the dining room, Deacon blinked back tears.

We sang ‘Happy Birthday’ with gusto as Deacon shook his head in disbelief.

Simon popped a champagne cork, foam cascading over the bottle’s edge.

He poured the glasses, and Davon passed them round while Simon raised his in a toast to his son.

‘To Deacon. The best son, dad, and brother anyone could ask for. Thank you for flying us out for a holiday we’ll never forget, mate.’

Also the best ex-husband, I thought, my chest tightening as my eyes met D’s across the bubbles.

He gave me a soft smile as I lifted my flute to him and winked.

His mouth twitched. Then he bit his lower lip in a sensual tease.

I closed my eyes and drew a breath as emotion spiked through me, yearning to sidle up to him, tilt my face toward his, and kiss him.

Hell, I wanted to lie in his arms all night and escape into the seductive, all-consuming intimacy we once shared.

Fat chance of that happening, I told myself.

So I drank my bubbly and kept my thoughts private as the party spilled onto the terrace.

Deacon pulled out his saxophone and treated everyone to three jazz tracks that set the mood.

Yumi turned up the music, and the family danced to an eclectic mix of Afrobeats, hip-hop, and R&B.

After a few wild dances with Raff, Deacon found his way back to me.

We sat with his arm around my back and me leaning into him, natural and easy, as we laughed and talked until two in the morning.

He took Raff to bed and returned to find the adults enjoying port and more conversation.

Finally, after we turned the music off and the family drifted off to their rooms, he walked me down the hallway to my ground-floor suite.

His thumb stroked the bare skin of my forearm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

‘Thank you for an amazing birthday.’

‘Non, merci, handsome.’ I rested my shoulder against the doorframe. ‘This was the best, most unexpected few weeks of my life.’

He tilted his head, questioning. Then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to each eyelid.

Tears pricked my eyes.

I slipped into the bedroom and shut the door before I broke down.