Chapter 21: Chapter 21

JAMIE

The floor of the living room was starting to feel like a hot yoga studio. My legs were on fire, a sensation I was all too familiar with, as I pushed them to lift and lower.

Adam was standing a short distance away, his penetrating gaze locked on me. His silence was a constant critique of my form, a reminder to keep my knees aligned and my back straight. Sweat was trickling down my neck, soaking the front of my T-shirt and the sports bra underneath.

I stole a glance at the clock, the hands moving at a painfully slow pace. Each second felt like a lifetime, and my body was screaming for mercy. I knew I could stop at any moment, but I didn’t want to quit.

I had been running on fumes since the crack of dawn. Sleep had been a rare commodity last night, filled with restless tossing and turning and bizarre dreams. This morning, the rhythmic thumping of Mason’s workout had rudely awakened me.

The aroma of fresh coffee and the clinking of metal weights had filled the house, a tantalizing soundtrack to his morning routine. I had watched him through half-closed eyes as he moved with an effortless elegance, his body slick with sweat.

Even in the dim light of dawn, he was a sight to behold, and the way the coffee seemed to enhance the color of his eyes was simply mesmerizing.

“And ten,” Adam declared, his voice slicing through the silence of the living room.

Relief washed over me as I lowered my legs to the floor. I pushed myself into a sitting position, my hands resting on the hard floor. My head fell back, and I stared at the ceiling, relishing the sweet relief of stillness.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Like I’m slowly dying,” I groaned. “I’m okay, I just need a gallon of water—maybe two.” My voice was a raspy whisper, a stark contrast to the heavy panting that had accompanied my workout.

Adam chuckled, a sound that was both amused and sympathetic. “I’ll grab some from the kitchen,” he promised, disappearing from the room.

A minute later, he returned, two bottles of water in his hands. “Here you go, princess,” he teased, a playful sparkle in his eyes.

I managed a smirk as I took the bottle from him. The cool plastic felt divine against my overheated skin. “You know, you’re really pushing me to my limits lately,” I complained, but there was a playful edge to it.

Adam sank into the armchair. “Well, you did so well without me while you were away,” he explained. “I figured I’d have to start making you work extra hard since I know what you’re capable of.”

“I knew Greta would be the death of me,” I joked.

There was a moment of silence between us as we both sipped from our water bottles. I closed the cap and wiped the sweat from my forehead. Physio had been intense today, and the heat pouring in through the large windows didn’t help.

“So, how are things?” Adam asked gently. “We haven’t talked much since you got back from your vacation.”

I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “Things are good. Mason and I have sort of worked things out. I still don’t remember him, but being in Napa, we got some quality time together,” I admitted, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “And Penelope… I actually feel like I’m her mother. I love taking care of her.”

Adam returned the smile, his hands clasped together, resting on his lap. “That’s good, Jamie. I told you things would work out.” There was a brief pause, and then he added, “So, what seems to be bothering you?” His tone was soft but probing.

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the question. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

I tried to push myself up into a standing position, but my legs felt like jelly. Sensing my struggle, Adam moved toward me, his strong arm sliding under my shoulder blades and lifting me effortlessly.

“Couch?” he offered.

“Yes, please,” I replied, grateful for his support.

Adam settled back into the armchair, a thoughtful look on his face. It felt like an eternity passed in the silence that followed. Finally, he spoke. “You know, I’m not just good at the physical side of therapy. I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”

~This isn’t the therapy I signed up for.~ How did he figure out something was bothering me? I thought I had my act down pat. At least it seemed to fool everyone else in my life. Why wasn’t Adam falling for my “I’m just fine” routine?

I brushed my damp hair back from my face, bracing myself to either spill the beans or not. Maybe he’d let it go and leave, giving me space until I was ready to talk, even if it was to him. But perhaps it was time to unload this burden. It was a better option than seeing a shrink.

The idea of discussing my issues with a stranger made me shudder. But Adam was different. He felt like a friend, someone I could trust.

“I’ve been having these strange dreams lately,” I started, my voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy, like they were drenched in molasses.

Adam nodded, his eyes filled with a soft concern. “They start off pretty normal, but then they morph into nightmares.”

“What happens in your dreams?” Adam asked.

I hesitated, my thoughts racing. These dreams were so vivid, so lifelike, that it was hard to tell them apart from reality. “I’m in bed with Mason,” I admitted, my cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “I can feel his lips on mine, his arms around me. Everything feels… right.”

A chill ran down my spine as I continued. “But then, everything shifts. I feel this pressure on my throat, like he’s trying to strangle me. I fight against him, panic rising in my throat. When I finally manage to open my eyes, it’s not Mason I see.”

Adam’s brows knitted together as he leaned in, his face showing deep concentration. “Who is it?” he asked, his voice low and calming.

I shook my head, a wave of confusion washing over me. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before, but his eyes… They’re familiar. There’s something about them that scares me and yet oddly draws me in.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed as he pondered my words. “Have you talked to Mason about this?” he asked cautiously.

I shook my head, a lump forming in my throat. “I don’t think I can,” I managed to say. “It’s complicated. A few months ago I found a file in Mason’s office while I was cleaning. There was a photo in it of a man. I think it’s the same man from my dreams.”

“That makes sense,” Adam said, his voice low and thoughtful. “The brain is a powerful tool, Jamie. It’s always processing information, even when we’re asleep. Maybe this man you’re talking about, this mystery man, you’ve put him in your dreams because you’re curious about him. Your subconscious is weaving a story around him.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked. I was filled with doubt. The idea that my dreams were just a manifestation of my curiosity was both fascinating and unsettling.

It did make sense, in a way. I had seen his face in that file months ago, and the image had stuck in my mind. But why now?

Why, after coming back from Napa, were these dreams haunting me?

What had changed?

***

I slipped into a gray tweed tuxedo jacket. It was a timeless piece, always managing to elevate any outfit. Underneath it, I adjusted the hem of my simple white crop top, smoothing it down.

My eyes landed on the black jeans. They were snug, almost uncomfortably so, but the way they accentuated my curves was undeniable. A swipe of red lipstick completed the look, adding a bold contrast to the otherwise monochrome outfit.

My shoe options were limited. Heels were a no-go for me, so it was either sneakers or flats. Given that I was going out, flats seemed the more suitable choice. I opted for a pair of velvet pointed toe flats, hoping they would match my outfit.

The sound of the front door opening and closing reverberated through the house. Mason was home. I quickly spritzed Chanel on my neck, rubbing the excess onto my wrists, before leaving the downstairs bedroom.

Mason was in the living room, already shrugging off his work jacket. He had been working late hours at the office lately, a consequence of our month-long vacation. It was understandable, of course. Work is important, and I knew he was under pressure to catch up.

In a way, his absence had given me more time to bond with Penelope.

“You’re home late,” I remarked, my voice carrying a hint of playful reproach. I moved toward him with slow, deliberate steps, my eyes locked on his face.

Mason lifted his gaze from the kitchen counter, a glass of wine already in his grasp. “I know… I’m sorry,” he said, letting out a sigh. “Eoin and I were buried in paperwork,” he added regretfully.

“It’s okay, I understand work is a priority,” I said, flashing a supportive smile. I stood on my tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his lips, my arms encircling his neck.

As I pulled away, I took a moment to study his face, noticing the signs of exhaustion etched into his forehead. “You seem worn out.”

“I’ve been glued to a computer screen all day,” Mason said tiredly.

“Perhaps you should take a breather?” I proposed. “Spend some time with Penelope and me this weekend, give work a rest for a bit.”

“Saturday it is,” he agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His lips met mine in a brief kiss before deepening the connection. His tongue ventured out, exploring my mouth with a familiarity that sent shivers down my spine.

His hand slid down my back, slipping under my tuxedo jacket. His palms molded around my ass, firmly gripping my cheeks.

“What are you up to?” I questioned. I attempted to pull away, but his hold on me was unyielding.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his lips tracing a path down my neck. Soft kisses dotted my skin, each one more intoxicating than the last. Then, without any warning, he nipped at my skin, his teeth lightly grazing my neck.

A moan slipped past my lips, a reflex to the unexpected pleasure.

“I’m going to be late,” I giggled, struggling to regain my breath.

Mason broke away from the kiss, his eyes sparkling with a playful intensity. “Late for what?” he inquired in a low, husky whisper.

“I have dinner plans with Ethan in thirty minutes,” I explained, feeling my cheeks heat up. “It was a last-minute thing. I texted you earlier to inform you, but I guess you missed it.”

“I didn’t see any message,” he responded, leaning back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed. There was a touch of irritation in his voice that I couldn’t quite identify. “Where are you meeting him?”

“Um, I can’t recall the name,” I confessed, scrambling for my phone. After a few seconds of scrolling, I found Ethan’s message. “Here it is,” I announced, holding up the phone so Mason could see the restaurant name.

“I know that place,” he stated, already reaching for his car keys. “I can drop you off.”

“I was going to ask Ezra. You’ve been at work all day, I don’t want to impose,” I clarified.

“I insist,” he declared, resolute. “Let’s get moving.” His eyes held a determined glint that made it clear he wasn’t open to any objections.

Ethan was seated across from me. His broad shoulders occupied the small table by the restaurant window. He was completely absorbed in his meal, a juicy steak that sizzled on his plate. Alongside it was a heap of creamy mashed potatoes and a colorful assortment of steamed vegetables.

I had chosen something lighter. My Caesar salad was a delightful mix of crunchy romaine lettuce, croutons, and a creamy dressing. But the real star was the side order of skinny fries. They were cooked to perfection, golden brown and crispy, with just the right amount of salt.

Ethan, always the opportunist, noticed my indulgence. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he reached across the table and swiped one of my treasured fries.

“Hey, hands off!” I protested, playfully batting his hand away. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

He grinned. “Well, you’re not going to finish all of them,” he said, popping the stolen fry into his mouth.

“That’s probably true,” I conceded. “I want to save room for dessert. I’ve been eyeing that chocolate cake since we walked in here.”

Ethan laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m with you on that,” he said, his gaze already wandering toward the dessert menu.

A dazzling array of cocktails arrived at our table, a perfect complement to the indulgent dessert menu. Ethan dove into his chocolate cake, his fork disappearing and reappearing at an alarming rate. He was a man on a mission, and his mission was to devour it in under a minute.

~Men and their appetites~, I mused internally. Mason, however, was a refreshing deviation from the norm. He wasn’t the type to be lured by surgical enhancements or greasy fast food, though he did indulge occasionally.

But he was always mindful of what he consumed.

Ethan paused his cake devouring to ask, “So, how are things at home? Penelope seems quite taken with Fred. Has she let him out of her sight yet?”

I laughed, shaking my head in amusement. “I’ve never seen a kid so fixated on a turtle. It’s crazy. Mason is still puzzled by the name choice. But it’s just a name, right? She probably picked it up from some TV show.”

“Kids absorb so much,” Ethan reflected. “She could have named it Leonardo. Now that would have been a cooler name.”

He began humming the familiar Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song, a grin spreading across his face.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. ~Men and their Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles~, I thought to myself.

As Ethan and I shared laughter and light-hearted banter, I noticed his gaze shift behind me. Intrigued, I followed his line of sight. I wondered what had captured his attention.

The answer became apparent moments later. A familiar figure appeared beside me, disrupting the comfortable rhythm of our conversation.

Her hair, a blend of blonde and brown, fell just below her elbows, framing a face that was both familiar and different. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a coincidence.