CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

AMELIA

I stretch, my body still humming from the delicious aftershocks of Nathan’s morning attention.

Coffee and bacon drift in from the kitchen, mingling with the faint, clean smell of Dylan’s baby shampoo.

Slipping out of bed, I pad barefoot across the plush carpet to the bathroom and glimpse myself in the mirror—flushed cheeks and wild chestnut curls tumbling around my shoulders. A glow radiates from within, born from a morning of lovemaking and pure happiness. The kind that comes from being where you’re meant to be, with the people you love most.

I shower quickly, eager to join my boys for breakfast. And when I step out of the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy white robe, I find Nathan kneeling beside Dylan at the foot of the bed, watching as our son stacks colored blocks into a precarious tower.

“Morning, my loves,” I murmur and cross the room to kiss the top of Nathan’s head and stroke Dylan’s hair.

Nathan rises to his feet, his arms pulling me in for a proper kiss, his lips warm and insistent against mine. “Morning, beautiful. Breakfast is ready.”

We head to the kitchen, Dylan perched on Nathan’s hip, his tiny hands gripping his father’s shirt. The table is set, and Nathan secures Dylan into his high chair, snapping a bib around his neck before settling into his seat next to me.

We eat in companionable silence; the only sounds are the clink of silverware against plates and Dylan’s happy babbling as he smears scrambled eggs across his tray. It’s a moment of domestic bliss, a snapshot of the life I never dared to dream of.

After breakfast, Nathan kisses us both goodbye, his promise to be home as early as possible lingering in the air as he leaves. I turn to Dylan, who beams at me, eager for our next adventure.

“What do you say, buddy? Ready to explore the city with Mama?”

His smile says it all.

We start at the zoo, wandering through lush habitats and sprawling enclosures. His eyes widen when the elephants lumber across the savannah. As monkeys snatch treats from children’s outstretched hands, his giggles fill the air.

Jeff, our driver, follows a few steps behind, a steady presence I’m still getting used to. Kent, the bodyguard Nathan insisted on, walks beside him. At first, I balked at the idea of having security, but now, seeing their care for Dylan, I’m grateful.

Lunch finds us at a little café near the zoo’s entrance. Dylan munches on his grilled cheese while I sip my lemonade. I smile as Jeff entertains Dylan with silly faces and goofy voices, drawing bursts of laughter from my usually shy boy.

After going home for a quick nap, we head to the aquarium. Dylan’s face lights up as we enter the underwater exhibits’ blue-tinged world. He presses his little hands against the glass, staring wide-eyed at the colorful fish darting past. The jellyfish become his favorite, their glowing, pulsing bodies hypnotizing him.

Throughout the day, my phone buzzes with texts from Nathan—quick check-ins and little love notes that make my heart flutter. I send him pictures of Dylan, and his joy is evident in every shot. I can feel Nathan’s smile through the screen.

When we get back to the apartment, I’m content. The day has been well spent with my favorite little man, and I can’t help but smile at the memory of his laughter.

When Nathan returns home for a night on the town, I’m just stepping out of the shower, a towel wrapped around me. He leans against the bathroom door, his eyes smoldering as they sweep over my damp skin and tousled hair.

“Hello, love. Maybe we should stay home tonight.”

I laugh, brushing past him into the bedroom. “No way, mister. You promised me a night out, and that’s what I’m getting.”

His hands skim over my shoulders, teasing, but I dance out of his reach, my heart racing with anticipation. “Nice try, but you’re not getting out of this that easily.”

I slip into the blue dress I laid out earlier, the silky fabric cool against my skin. Its simple elegance, paired with strappy heels and delicate gold earrings, makes me feel powerful and beautiful. I catch his reflection in the mirror—inching my way––and he comes up behind me and nibbles my neck.

“That won’t work,” I warn him, even as desire hums through me. “We have reservations, remember?”

He sighs, exaggerated but full of mischief. The excitement in his eyes tells me he’s just as eager for tonight as I am—to show me off, to claim me in front of the world. We say our goodbyes to Dylan and Sharon, who has graciously offered to babysit, and step into the warm Boston night.

It doesn’t take long to reach the restaurant, a cozy, upscale spot downtown. The interior is bathed in the soft glow of candles, with the flickering warmth of polished mahogany adding a touch of elegance. Jazz purrs in the background, a steady undercurrent that sets the perfect mood.

As we wait for the ma?tre d’, the oak door swings open behind us, bringing trouble.

“Nathan!”