Chapter 24
Maddie
Light brushes my eyelids as soft golden hues tug me out of my deep, comfortable post-orgasmic slumber. My body feels heavy and deliciously sore, the kind of ache that hums with memory from the night before.
I shift, instinctively reaching for him, but instead of Nate’s warmth, I’m met with the faint scent of him on the sheets and the most beautiful doggy ever.
Skye.
I sigh back into the bed when I’m smacked in the face with a wet tongue.
“Hi, Skye.” Her tail whacks against the mattress. She licks me again, this time with half the enthusiasm, seemingly just as tired as I am.
I wrap an arm around her silky body and pull her close. “So, I’m your mom, it seems.” Her tail thumps faster at the word. “Do you know that word? Mommy,” I tease, repeating it until she lets out a soft bark. “That’s me, baby.”
Sometime in the night, Nate whispered that he had an early meeting with Dubai and wouldn’t be here when I woke.
I remember his hand brushing through my hair and his kiss soft against my temple, apologizing profusely, but waking up with Skye sprawled across the bed, her head on his pillow, almost makes up for it.
I stroke her fur, my eyes roaming the room as morning fully settles in, appreciating it in a way I couldn’t in the dark or while Nate was inspecting my every reaction.
I’m glad the penthouse hasn’t lost its magic.
Whoever designed it knew how to preserve the building’s soul while elevating every corner.
Two walls have floor-to-ceiling windows, original to the building. They’re oversized, with an arched top and paneled iron, creating a lattice design that catches the light perfectly.
From what I remember before I was swiftly swept toward Nate’s room, the bedroom is moodier than the rest of the place.
The walls, a deep, matte, near-black shade of brown, set the tone for a room that feels private and deliberate, like a secret you don’t want to share.
It’s very Nate.
It’s also very me.
The en suite is adorned with floor-to-ceiling dark green mosaic tile, swirling in a wave-like pattern. There’s a deep soaking tub I could lose hours in and a rain shower that belongs in an architectural magazine.
His closet is just as swanky.
The door’s been left ajar, allowing me to see in from the bed; there’s a long line of impeccably tailored navy and black suits, no doubt, all custom.
Work shirts and ceiling-high stacks of T-shirts.
His shoes line the back wall, from Ferragamo loafers to Nike Dunks. And there’s a large safe gleaming faintly in the corner, which is no doubt filled with his priceless watches.
Every detail screams control, wealth, and precision. I’ve seen that same meticulousness in my brother’s home, but this…this is on another level entirely.
I sift through old memories of my first walk-through with the realtor all those years ago, wondering if anything has changed, and then suddenly it hits me.
There are two floors, not one.
The penthouse was originally on the top floor, where the primary bedroom now sits, meaning he must have bought the unit below, combined them, and opened up the two spaces.
I sink deeper into the pillow, silently doing the math on what a two-story penthouse in this building must cost.
Forty million? More?
What the heck, Nate?
But what truly catches me off guard isn’t the expansion or even the Banksy hanging across the room. I don’t even want to know how much that cost. It’s the photograph in his closet. Our photograph. Blown up, framed, and hung like art.
Our very first picture taken together, from when we were teenagers at camp, laughing under the sun.
The one I thought I’d lost forever.
Something twists in my chest. I thought I was prepared for all this—for him—but seeing how much he’s kept of us makes my heart ache in a way I didn’t expect.
Every memory, every piece of what we were, frozen in time. And all the years wasted because of me.
Why have I waited so long to hear him out?
My eyes close, arms wrapped around Skye, replaying every second of last night.
It was everything.
Beautiful, consuming, and far too real. But even as I relive it, my thoughts start to spiral. It’s always like this when the quiet settles in, my mind runs ahead of my heart.
Like it is currently, only now, tenfold, slowly intensifying, despite our mind-blowing night. Nate’s god status still stands. Not only in bed, because that’s undeniable.
The way he looked at me, touched me, spoke to me, it was like no time had passed at all. The way he makes me feel is almost otherworldly, like gravity lets go when he’s inside me, and I’m floating somewhere between earth and the stars.
I could drown in the feeling.
And that dirty mouth, I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, from someone who barely uses swear words, I’ve missed every minute of him choking me, telling me to swallow his dick whole.
But more importantly, beyond all the fire and hunger, he’s still the compassionate, beautiful Nate that I remember.
Still the man who held me as if I were something sacred. The man who’s waited a decade without turning his love into resentment.
My life after Nate, before now, feels hollow, a beautiful shell with nothing inside. I’ve missed the connection we had, and I know he has too.
He’s been waiting while I tried, and failed, to move on. The realization hits me like a tidal wave. I sit up abruptly, my stomach drops, as everything comes barreling forward—the penthouse, the necklace, the tattoo, Skye.
His devotion.
I want Nate back. I want all of it.
But do I deserve it?
My gaze catches my clothes scattered across various pieces of furniture.
Shit.
My heart begins beating quicker, panic flickering through me irrationally fast. I close my eyes and try to steady myself, but the familiarity of overthinking rises anyway.
Why am I like this?
Well aware that I’m self-sabotaging, I’m still unable to stop it.
Skye lets out a small whine when I lean down to kiss the top of her head, giving her one last cuddle.
I don’t know why that of all things makes me emotional, but the lump in the back of my throat hurts, and the look in her eyes nearly undoes me.
I text Leo that I’m leaving and he should come get Skye, and before I can take another step forward, I freeze.
I stand in the middle of the room, naked and dumbfounded that I haven’t realized this before.
This was never about what I deserved.
This is about Nate.
He doesn’t deserve me. He deserves better.
He spent ten years trying to explain, and I pushed him away like he meant nothing. Like our history didn’t warrant even ten minutes of my time.
What type of person does that?
I’m ashamed of myself.
I need to get out of here, so I grab a pair of Nate’s sweats and a hoodie from the closet, pulling them on quickly. They hang loose, soft with his scent, and it takes everything not to press my face into the fabric.
I need time to think everything over before I fully give myself to Nate again.
After all these years, my all, is the least he deserves.
“Are you grabbing me a drink too?” Addie yells from the couch.
I take down two wine glasses and pour us both generous servings. “Of course. Any snacks?”
“As many as you can carry.”’
“Or, you know, you could help?” I call back, rolling my eyes.
What the hell?
“I’m too tired to move.”
I grab the dill pickle pretzels I couldn’t resist at the store and our favorite chocolate chip cookies from Levain Bakery. Addie sits up just long enough to huff and take her glass of Pinot Noir from me.
“Why are you so grouchy?”
“Because I had a work event last night and ran into my hot neighbor. It was a late one, and I didn’t expect to come here and play therapist when you said, ‘Let’s have a day and veg out.’”
I wince. Fair.
The moment she walked through my door, I unloaded every thought about Nate that’s been eating me alive. I didn’t mean to. I only needed someone to make sense of the chaos in my head.
But Ad’s is done with me.
Honestly, I’d be sick of my drama by now too.
“Have you heard from Nate?” She takes a sip, eyeing me over the glass.
I shrug. “A few times.”
“And?”
“He wasn’t exactly happy when he found his place empty. I only responded this morning, since I fell asleep so early.” I trail off, twisting my wine stem. “And today, I told him I was busy with you all day.”
She doesn’t look amused as she maneuvers her body to face mine. “Mmm.”
“What does ‘mmm’ mean?”
She shrugs and drinks more of her wine. “Nothing.”
“You know you’re infuriating when you’re cranky.”
“I just don’t get it, Maddie.” She leans forward, her tone soft but exasperated. “You have this perfect man who adores you, who would move mountains for you, and now you’re second-guessing everything after secretly loving him from afar for a decade?”
“I was not.”
Her eyes practically roll to the back of her head. “Okay,” she drawls sarcastically.
“You’re annoying me,” I huff, sinking into the couch with my wine. “Tell me about your night then.”
“He’s hot, nothing more.”
“What was wrong with this one?” I ask, knowing it’s something ridiculous. She has extremely picky taste, she’s never going to meet anyone.
“If you must know. He had a nose ring.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re all artsy and free-spirited. You even had a nose ring at one point.”
She scrunches up her nose in disgust. “It’s not a good look on a guy, and he kept playing with it while I was talking. Like a girl twirling her hair.”
I throw my head back. This is exactly what I needed to get my mind off of everything.
“What about the Cal, from the gala?”
She stills, “How did you know his name?”
“Um, because he’s a famous football player. He plays for New York. He didn’t tell you?”
“Fuck off. He’s not.”
I nod and take a sip. “Best in the league.”
“Ugh. Of course, he was the best sex of my life, and he’s an athlete. I hate sports players besides Mase, obviously.”
“Best sex of your life, huh?”
“Shut up, Maddie Grace,” she groans.
“Eat a cookie. It will make you feel better.”