Chapter 4: Chapter 4

JAMIE

The comforting rhythm of the rain outside was the first thing I noticed as my eyes fluttered open. I glanced at the television. The room was filled with the familiar melody of “Hungry Eyes.” I didn’t remember leaving the TV on when I drifted off to sleep about an hour ago.

Being back in this world felt odd, a world I had bid goodbye to many seasons ago. I was so lost in the TV that I barely registered the door creaking open.

Standing in the doorway was Mason Knight, my boss. He looked as put-together as always. His hair was styled to perfection, his outfit casual yet impeccably chosen. It was all so…Mason.

He had always been one to maintain a flawless facade, a mask that concealed the man underneath.

“Jamie, how are you holding up?” he asked, his lips curling into a well-rehearsed smile.

A smile that felt alien compared to the one I was accustomed to when I worked under him. My initial week at Knight Industries was a whirlwind of stress, a relentless struggle against his demanding nature and his penetrating gaze.

It wasn’t so much his words, but the way he made me feel—insignificant, incapable, unseen. I managed to say, “Um… I guess I’m okay, considering the circumstances.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

I shifted in the bed, a small movement that took a surprising amount of effort. “Where’s my dad?”

“He left when you dozed off. Penelope is spending the night with him since that’s their usual Friday routine,” he explained, sinking into the plush recliner.

“I’ll be here with you tonight in case you need anything,” he added. His offer hung heavily in the room. I knew I couldn’t decline.

My dad had spoken highly of his unwavering commitment, his ceaseless vigil by my side. How could I turn down his kindness, his sacrifice? Yet, the thought of him staying, of sharing this intimate space, filled me with a peculiar blend of discomfort and gratitude.

“Are you okay with that?” he asked with a hint of uncertainty.

“I suppose so,” I responded, subdued. “I’m glad that Penelope has a good bond with him. I’m sure he appreciates the company.”

The fragments of memory, the snippets of information gathered from my dad and Mason, painted a complicated picture. Mason had stepped up, taking on the role of both father and mother to our daughter, Penelope.

My parents, despite their good intentions, had been pushed to the sidelines, their offers of help politely turned down. I didn’t blame him. Penelope was his child as much as she was mine.

It was only fair that he should be the one to raise her. And yet, he’d managed to strike a delicate balance, ensuring that she still had a strong bond with her grandparents.

“I know you would’ve wanted it that way,” Mason said, his voice soft. “You don’t remember, but before the accident, your dad pretty much despised me. He didn’t approve of our relationship. He didn’t think I was good enough for his daughter.”

“Mm, that sounds like my dad,” I murmured, a small smile tugging at my lips. “He’s always been protective of me.”

Given what I remembered about Mason’s character, it wasn’t hard to understand why my dad had been so cautious of him. A man of sharp intellect and unwavering ambition, Mason could be intimidating, even hostile.

Not to mention his reputation of sleeping around New York, hopping from one woman to another without any regard for the consequences. Mason grinned. “Well, since having a daughter of my own to look after, I understand that a lot more.”

“I’ve grown on him over the years. He’s quite fond of me now,” he added.

I forced a smile in return, though my heart felt heavy. I knew what he wanted, what he hoped for.

But I couldn’t reciprocate those feelings. The man I remembered was arrogant, demanding, and utterly devoid of empathy. How could I have possibly fallen for someone like that? It seemed so out of character.

“I brought you some things you might need,” Mason said, breaking the awkward silence. He walked over to the window, picking up a suitcase from the chair.

“There’s some shampoo, fresh clothes, and pajamas. There’s some underwear in there too.” The underwear, a mundane item, had somehow become a source of embarrassment.

“You bought me underwear?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Mason’s face flushed a deep shade of red.

“Okay, I just tried to remember what you used to like,” he said. “Maybe it’s best if you do some online shopping and I can pick up the stuff for you.”

Just as he was about to zip up the suitcase, I spotted something else hidden inside. It was a photo album. Intrigued, I pulled it out and opened it up.

The first picture was of Penelope, a tiny bundle of joy. A smile spread across my face as I traced her features with my fingers. She looked like me, but there was also a striking resemblance to Mason.

There was no denying their bond, the undeniable connection between father and daughter. Mason watched me intently as I delved deeper into the album, each photo revealing a new chapter in Penelope’s life.

The early pictures were devoid of his presence, but as the pages turned, he appeared more and more, his love for her clear in every frame.

“The photo book was yours,” Mason explained, unzipping his hoodie and tossing it onto the tray table.

“Penelope and I kept adding to it over the years.” I flipped through the remaining pages, each photo a poignant reminder of the time I’d missed. Tears welled up in my eyes, a bittersweet mix of sadness and joy.

Sadness for the lost years, joy for the incredible daughter I’d been blessed with.

“Thank you for this, Mason,” I murmured, a half-smile playing on my lips.

“I’m glad I got to see her grow, even if it’s just through photos. Can I keep this?”

“Of course,” he replied, a gentle understanding in his eyes. A million questions swirled in my mind, each one more terrifying than the last.

I’d asked my father for answers, but he’d merely suggested I talk to Mason.

“So… What were we like together…,” I began, trailing off.

“Um, I noticed you’re not in any of the pictures with Penelope when she was a baby. Did something happen between us?”

Mason shifted in his seat, discomfort evident on his face. “We were together for just a couple of months before I left New York. When I came back, Penelope was almost a year old. I didn’t know you were pregnant when I left.”

Confusion reigned.

“I don’t understand. Did we lose contact? I was having your baby… I would’ve tried to reach out.”

Who was I? Who was this woman I was becoming?

Sleeping with Mason Knight, the notorious womanizer? Getting pregnant and raising a child alone?

It didn’t fit the narrative I had of myself. I was responsible, cautious. I’d barely dated, let alone engaged in casual sex.

I vowed to settle down with the right man, and Mason Knight certainly wasn’t that.

“We ended things badly, and I left,” Mason admitted. “No one knew where I was, not even my father. You tried to find me, to let me know about the pregnancy. You wanted her to have a father. Don’t blame yourself for anything. I was the problem, not you.”

The classic “It’s not you, it’s me” line. How naive had I been?

“You walked away,” I whispered.

“Only because I was scared, Jamie,” Mason confessed softly. “Being with you was different.”

He rubbed his forehead. Frustration and regret were etched across his face.

“I know I let you down back then, but I came back to make it right.”

The weight of his words settled on my shoulders. The past week had been a whirlwind of revelations, a tumultuous journey through the wreckage of my past.

The shock of my mother’s passing, followed by the mind-bending realization of my relationship with Mason, had left me reeling.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. “Obviously, I forgave you in the past and we moved on. But right now, everything feels so strange.”

As I gazed into his eyes, I saw the hurt, the devastation. I’d unintentionally wounded him, and guilt gnawed at me. Perhaps honesty wasn’t always the best policy.

“I’m sorry, Mason,” I apologized.

“It’s just, you know me inside out, but I don’t know you at all. Waking up from a coma to find out I had a baby with my boss is a weird feeling.”

Mason nodded, surprisingly calm.

“I get it,” he said.

But the mask of understanding couldn’t hide the pain beneath.

“I just need a little more time,” I implored him. “Is that too much to ask?”

“Of course not,” he responded, attempting to mask his pain with a smile.

But I could see right through it. I was the source of his heartache. I was asking him to pause his life for me once more. The guilt was suffocating, but I was left with no other option.

***

The next day, my hospital room was filled with the infectious laughter and warmth of my best friend, Ethan. His sense of humor was as sharp as ever, providing a much-needed distraction from the emotional storm brewing within me.

“I wanted to visit earlier, but I figured you needed some time with your family first,” Ethan reasoned.

“So, how does it feel to wake up and see everyone again?”

“It’s…strange,” I confessed, letting out a sigh. “I have a daughter I don’t remember giving birth to. I’ve missed two years of her life, and she doesn’t even recognize me. I don’t know her.”

Ethan’s face softened.

“You were there for Penelope’s first year. She knows who her mom is. You both just need some time to reconnect,” he said. His eyes sparkled with optimism. “I haven’t seen her in ages.”

I looked at him, taken aback.

“Really? I assumed Mason would’ve introduced Penelope to my friends.”

Ethan shrugged.

“I wanted to be a part of her life, but things didn’t pan out that way,” he admitted. “Don’t be too hard on Mason. After the accident, he had a tough time.”

“What do you mean?” I inquired, my curiosity piqued.

Ethan’s face changed. A hint of discomfort flashed across his features.

“It’s nothing major. He was just dealing with a lot back then, that’s all,” he explained.

“Everyone’s been asking about you. When do you get to leave this place?”

“That might take a while,” I responded, groaning.

“I can’t even use the bathroom without assistance. The physical therapy sessions are kicking my ass. They’re my worst enemy right now.”

The feeling of helplessness was infuriating. I yearned for independence, to be able to take care of myself and my daughter.

But for now, I was stuck in this hospital bed and bound to the wheelchair parked next to it. I felt like a prisoner in my own body.

“For now, we can stick to hospital visits,” Ethan proposed. “Next time, I’ll bring Chinese food and we can have a movie night. You’re the only one who’d watch James Bond movies with me.”

I laughed.

“That sounds like old times. I’d love that. So, how’s Carmen? I thought she’d come with you today,” I asked, shifting the topic.

Ethan’s face turned serious.

“Your dad didn’t tell you?”

A wave of anxiety washed over me.

“Tell me what?” I whispered, a lump forming in my throat.

Ethan let out a sigh.

“You and Carmen had a falling out before your accident. The night before her wedding, her soon-to-be husband made a pass at you. She walked in on the two of you…”

“She didn’t believe me, did she?” I asked.

“It’s not that she didn’t believe you, Jamie,” he clarified, choosing his words carefully. “I think she hoped that once they were married, he’d change. Everything was falling apart for her and she made a poor choice.”

Confusion swept over me. Carmen and I had our differences, sure, but we never let them fester for more than a few hours. And her choosing this guy over me? That didn’t sound like the Carmen I knew. She would know that I would never betray her like that.

~What the hell is happening?~ I thought. ~Nothing is as I remember it.~