Mag-log inMadisonOur food arrived. Ethan dove into his spaghetti with the enthusiasm of someone who'd never eaten before, sauce immediately decorating his face. "Napkin," I reminded him. He wiped his mouth, leaving a red streak across his cheek. "This is so good!" Despite everything, I smiled. "I'm glad you like it." Across the restaurant, I heard Anthony's laugh. Loud, carrying, the kind that made other diners look up. Alexander's voice followed, too low for me to make out words but unmistakably his. That particular cadence, the way he spoke with authority, even in casual conversation. I focused on my pasta, twirling noodles with mechanical precision. "Mom, can we get dessert here, too?" Ethan asked around a mouthful of spaghetti. "Maybe. Finish your dinner first." "I am finishing it!" He shoveled in another huge bite to prove his point. "Slow down. The food isn't going anywhere." He ignored me as he continued his assault on the spaghetti. Movement caught my eye. Anthony stood, pu
MadisonI twisted Ethan's dinosaur shirt, trying to get his squirming arms through the sleeves. "Can we get dessert?" He bounced on one foot while I wrestled with the fabric. "A big one? Like this big?" His arms spread as wide as they could reach, nearly smacking me in the face. "We'll see." I pulled the shirt down and reached for his shoes. "Right foot first, buddy." "But I want a big dessert. With ice cream. And chocolate. And more ice cream on top of that ice cream." "That's a lot of ice cream." "I know!" His eyes sparkled with the kind of pure enthusiasm only a four-year-old could muster. "Can we get pizza too? With pepperoni? And can I have soda?" "No soda. Nice try." "But Mom!" "Nope." I tied his shoes and stood, smoothing his hair. "Go ask Grandma if she wants to come with us." He raced from the room, his footsteps thundering down the hallway with all the grace of a tiny elephant. I grabbed my purse and keys, checking my reflection in the hallway mirror. The blue dres
MadisonI found Christopher's number and dialed before I could second-guess myself. It rang three times before he picked up. "Christopher?" I said, gripping the phone. "Hey, Madison. What's up?" I could hear the hum of office chatter behind him, the click of keyboards, someone laughing. "Where are you right now?" "At the office. Why? Everything okay?" I paced the kitchen, phone pressed to my ear. "I need a favor. Actually, more of a warning." "Okay." His tone shifted, curious but cautious. "What kind of warning?" "Remember the guy at the café the day before yesterday? The one in the expensive suit?" "Hard to forget. He looked like he wanted to murder me with his eyes." Despite everything, I almost smiled. "That's Alexander Knight. My former boss." "Your former boss showed up at your café and glared at me? That's weird." "Yeah, well, it gets weirder. I told him we're dating." Silence. "Christopher?" "You told your ex-boss that we're dating? Why?" I stopped pacing, stari
MadisonHe waited until I was settled before pulling away from the curb, the car gliding forward with that expensive smoothness only German engineering could achieve. I set the bags at my feet, staring straight ahead. The interior smelled like leather and that cologne. That same cologne that used to cling to my clothes after nights in his penthouse. "Where to?" he asked. I rattled off my address, keeping my voice flat. Professional. Like he was a stranger giving me a ride, not the man who'd once known every inch of my body. "Nice neighborhood," he observed after a moment. "It suits me." "Better than Manhattan?" "Much better." Silence fell between us, heavy and awkward. I watched the familiar streets pass by, each turn bringing me closer to home and further from this conversation. "Who was he?" Alexander asked suddenly. "The man at the café." My jaw tightened. "I already told you. None of your business." "Christopher, you said. How long have you been dating?" "Why do you ca
MadisonThe question caught me off guard. I blinked, scrambling for an answer that wouldn't give anything away. "That's none of your business." "Simple question. Are you seeing anyone?" "Why do you care?" "I'm curious." "Well, stay curious." I adjusted my grip on the bags. "My personal life isn't your concern anymore. If it ever was." "Just tell me. Yes or no." "Why? So you can what? Judge my choices? Catalog them like one of your acquisitions?" I shook my head. "I don't owe you answers." "I'm not judging. I just want to know if someone's taking care of you." The presumption in that statement made me want to throw my groceries at his perfect face. "I take care of myself. I have for years." "That's not what I meant." "Then what did you mean?" "Are you in a relationship or not? It's a simple question." And suddenly, I was done. Done with his questions, done with his presence, done with the way my traitorous body responded to him despite my brain screaming warnings. "Fine. Y
MadisonI refused to look at him, focusing instead on selecting the perfect tomato like my life depended on it. "Yes," I said finally. "We were." "Then why won't you talk to me?" "Because there's nothing to talk about," I added three tomatoes to my basket. "You got engaged. I quit. End of story." "You never even gave me a chance to explain." I spun to face him. "Explain what? That you were sleeping with me while planning a future with Katherine? That I meant nothing to you? I got the message loud and clear." "It wasn't like that." "No? Then what was it like?" I challenged. "You got what you wanted from me, then moved on to someone more appropriate." "Madison." "Don't." I held up a hand. "Don't say my name like that. Like we're friends. Like you care." "I do care." "No, you don't." I moved past him toward the pasta aisle. "You're just not used to people walking away from you. It bothers you. Your ego can't handle it." He followed. Of course, he followed. "That's not fair."







