Chapter 15 #2
For a second, I can’t think of a damn thing to say, and the sound of the bubbling water fills the silence between us. It’s always been easier for me to crack a joke than to let anyone get close enough to see what’s underneath. “Guess I’ll have to test that theory.”
Her brows lift. “Oh, you will, huh?”
“Yeah.” I shift my arm along the edge of the tub, careful not to brush against her. “Starting right now.”
She studies me for a moment, suspicious but curious. “Okay. So, what does that look like…you being real?”
I shrug, but my voice softens. “Maybe it’s me admitting that I like this. Sitting here with you. Talking like this.”
Her teasing smile falters, just a little. “You like talking to me?”
“Yeah.” I let out a quiet laugh. “Don’t sound so shocked. You make me think. You call me out. Being with you, it’s…nice.”
Surprise flickers in her expression. “That’s unexpectedly sweet.”
“I can do sweet,” I tell her. “Also, I’m really glad you let me come with you this weekend.”
I watch her lips curve but notice that it’s different this time. Her mind seems to have wandered somewhere else. It’s subtle, but the mood shifts, I can feel it. I wonder if it has something to do with the reason we’re here.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” I ask carefully, sensing that’s where she’s spaced off to. “Seeing your parents at the gala.”
She exhales and her shoulders sink. “Honestly?”
“Always,” I say.
She’s quiet for a moment, watching the bubbles drift across the water. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, “It’s never easy being around my mom and dad. My parents sent me to boarding school when I was twelve,” she says. “I think that was the day they stopped remembering I existed.”
The words land heavy between us. I don’t respond, not yet, afraid that she’ll stop talking if I do.
“They were always…busy,” she continues. “There was always a fundraiser, or a gala, or a dinner. They always needed to be seen, to be with people who could take them places. That’s what mattered to them, more even than me or my sister.
That’s how it always felt. They didn’t even come to my graduation because it conflicted with some fundraiser my dad was hosting. They sent me flowers with a card.”
Madeline shakes her head, lost in the memory. She keeps her gaze on the water, like it’s easier to tell the story to her reflection than to me.
“The only good part of those years was Cara,” she says softly. “My sister and I always had each other. Still do. She’s the only reason I even make an effort with my parents anymore.”
Her fingers trace an invisible pattern on the edge of the tub, and her voice drops to a whisper. “It’s just hard sometimes. It would take such little effort for them to show they care about us, but they just don’t do it. Part of me thinks it’s because deep down, they really don’t.”
A dozen questions push against the back of my throat.
What was it like growing up like that? What was it like at boarding school?
How could her parents choose their lifestyle over their kids?
I find myself thinking about Ford, about how he would give up Cove, give up everything he’s built, in a split second for Poppy if he needed to.
He would choose being a father over everything else, and we all know it.
So how could Madeline’s parents choose their careers, and their lifestyle, over their kids?
I wish I could ask her every question that’s swirling in my mind so I could know more about her, but Madeline stands, water slipping down her skin in slow trails.
She grabs her towel from the floor, wrapping it tight around her chest before glancing back at me.
“I think that was more than five minutes,” she says, smiling.
“It’s getting late, I’m tired. We should probably get ready for bed. ”
I nod, even though every cell in my body wants to ask her to stay a little longer so we can keep talking.
The bathroom door opens with a soft click, and I glance up then immediately wish I hadn’t.
Madeline steps out wearing a pale gray tank top and sleep shorts, both soft and fitted in that dangerous way that should look casual but absolutely doesn’t.
The fabric clings just enough to hint at her pebbled nipples, the smooth line of her stomach, the gentle sway of her hair that’s now down and loose around her shoulders.
And fuck me, but it’s just as bad as the black lace. Maybe worse.
I shift against the pillows, trying to look casual as she crosses the room. “I didn’t know which side you’d want,” I say, finding the ability to speak. “Is this okay?”
She nods quickly, avoiding my eyes. “Yeah. That’s fine.”
Her voice is quiet, a little tight. She’s nervous, but I don’t think it’s because she doesn’t trust me. I think she just…feels it too. Whatever this thing is that keeps circling between us.
It’s crossing boundaries, and we both know it. Sharing a room, sleeping in the same bed—it’s too close for two people who barely know each other, especially considering I’m her boss and she’s my employee, and this whole weekend blurs every line that’s supposed to stay clear.
She slips under the covers, careful to keep to her side of the bed. The sheets rustle and I immediately feel the warmth of her, making my pulse kick up. For a moment, neither of us speaks.
I tell myself to stop watching the way the lamplight catches on her hair, but my eyes betray me. She looks too damn good sitting next to me—long, loose hair, soft skin, that familiar frown line between her brows as she fluffs her pillow, pretending to be entirely unaffected.
“You okay?” I ask, just to fill the silence.
She glances at me, startled. “Not really. It’s…weird, sharing a bed.”
I smile. “For the record, I’m a perfect gentleman in my sleep.”
Her lips twitch, the smallest ghost of a smile. “I somehow doubt that.”
The banter helps, lightens the air, even as the tension lingers. She settles in, tugging the blanket higher.
Eventually, her breathing evens out, soft and steady, and I find myself staring at the ceiling, wide awake. I’m hyperaware of every small movement she makes, every shift of the sheets, every sigh.
And when she rolls slightly toward me, her knee brushing mine, I stop breathing altogether.
I could move. I should move. But I don’t. Because this—her warmth, her nearness—feels like the calm I didn’t know I’ve been needing.
And that realization alone is enough to keep me awake for the rest of the night.