Chapter 35

Lila’s POV

The first thing I felt when I woke up was warmth.

Not just any warmth, soft, full body warmth, like the kind you feel when you're cocooned in freshly washed sheets, nestled under the perfect weight of a duvet.

But the sheets and duvet weren't mine.

My sheets were pink. Always.

And this was white, stark, pristine and too crisp for the chaos of my usual mornings.

I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the soft gray light that filtered through the curtains. The room was too quiet. No city traffic humming through my windows, no familiar scent of rosewater and vanilla from my diffuser.

I sat up slowly.

The duvet slid off my shoulders, and I froze.

This wasn’t my room.

I looked around, trying not to let panic settle just yet. Hardwood floors, minimalistic décor, dark framed art on the walls. The air smelled like cologne and clean linen.

Then it hit me.

Drew’s apartment.

Drew’s bed.

I clutched the covers to my chest, heart racing.

Oh my God.

My mind flew back to the night before. The phone call. The desperation in his voice. Finding him laid on the floor, trembling with another attack. Holding him. Breathing with him. Sitting beside him for what felt like hours.

But I didn’t remember moving to the bedroom.

And now… now I was here, in his bed. Still wearing my clothes from yesterday thankfully. I couldn't imagine having a repeat of my first night in this same bedroom.

My eyes darted to the nightstand. My bag, phone, and shoes were all placed neatly by the side like someone had gently set them there, anticipating I'd need them close.

I ran my hands over my face.

“Lila, what have you gotten yourself into?”

I slipped out of bed quickly, trying not to overthink it. My mind was a flurry of questions, the loudest being how the hell did I get into Drew’s bed without remembering it?

There was no sign of him in the room.

I padded toward the door and stepped out into the hallway, intent on grabbing my things and getting out before I had to explain anything to anyone. I needed to get home, shower and pretend this never happened.

I rounded the corner to the living room.

And froze.

Drew was there.

Already dressed in a sleek navy suit, sleeves rolled just slightly, hair damp and tousled like he’d just stepped out of the shower. But what truly caught me off guard was the tray in his hands, toast, eggs, fruit, and what smelled like freshly brewed coffee.

His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, there was something almost… gentle there.

“I was just about to bring this in,” he said, lifting the tray slightly. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

My stomach chose that exact moment to grumble. Loudly.

I cleared my throat and crossed my arms. “I was just heading out. I need to get home and change before work.”

He gave a casual shrug and walked over to the table, placing the tray down with quiet ease. “You do not need to come to work today.”

I blinked. “What?”

Scratching his head, he said “Yeah, I'm giving you the day off.”

“You are giving me the day off,” I repeated, like the words might change meaning if I said them again.

He nodded, taking a sip from his own coffee mug. “You were up most of the night taking care of me. It's the least I could do to say thank you.”

I couldn’t hide my confusion. “You do remember you nearly bit my head off for asking for a few days off the other week, right?”

He paused at the kitchen island, his back to me. “I remember.”

“And now you’re just… giving me one?”

“You earned it.” He turned around slowly, locking eyes with me. “You didn’t have to come last night. But you did. So, thank you.”

I didn’t know what to say.

The Drew I was speaking to now was calm. Warm, even. Like a completely different person from the man who made snide comments and barked orders in meetings.

It was… unnerving.

“You should eat before you go,” he added, nodding toward the tray. “You didn’t eat anything yesterday. I noticed.”

I opened my mouth to argue again but closed it as soon as my stomach decided to betray me and grumbled loudly again.

He was right.

And the aroma of buttery toast and warm eggs was making me lightheaded and more hungry.

“I left a keycard on the table also,” he added, pointing to it beside the tray. “Just in case you wanted to lock up behind you.”

I stared at the keycard like it was some kind of trick.

He trusted me with a key to his place?

“I…um, thanks,” I mumbled.

He gave a small nod, grabbed his coat and briefcase, and made his way to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, pausing briefly. “Rest today. Seriously.”

Then he was gone.

And I was alone.

In Drew Sinclair’s apartment.

I didn’t move for a long moment. Just stood there, stunned, staring at the keycard and the breakfast like they were too much to process.

Eventually, I sat down and forced myself to eat, because my body wasn’t going to let me do anything else until I did. The food was perfect, simple, filling and warm. Everything about it screamed thoughtfulness, and it only confused me more.

By the time I left the apartment, Drew's words still echoed in my mind.

The ride home felt slower than usual. I kept turning everything over in my head.

The tray. The keycard. It was now obvious that he was the one that laid me in bed, gently and fully clothed. Because how else can you explain me, remembering everything except walking to the bed and laying down. It didn’t make sense.

Drew. The man who made me cry in the bathroom on my second week at work. The same man who once said emotions were distractions and who acted like caring was a weakness.

So why… Now?

Why this tenderness?

I pulled out my phone and opened my calendar. I had the whole day off. Might as well use it for something that felt like mine.

A hair appointment felt like a good place to start.

I quickly booked a trim and a treatment. I hadn’t done anything remotely self-soothing in weeks, and maybe a little freshening up was what I needed to reset to remind myself who I was before all of this chaos.

Back home, I kicked off my shoes and changed into something cozy. A worn T-shirt, soft shorts. Then I grabbed my broom and cleaning supplies. There was something about cleaning that always helped me feel like I was reclaiming my space, physically and emotionally.

I scrubbed the counters, swept the floor, even refolded the throw blankets on the couch.

But no matter how hard I tried to focus, my thoughts kept drifting back to him.

His face. His breathing. The way he looked at me this morning, like I wasn’t just someone who worked for him. Like I really mattered to him

And then…

A knock.

I froze mid wipe, the cleaning towel still in my hand.

Who on earth...?

I walked over cautiously, peeking through the peephole. All I saw was a flash of fabric and a familiar face.

“Surprise!!!”

The door burst open before I could fully register what was happening.

And there she was.

My mother.

Standing at my doorstep with a big smile, sunglasses pushed over her head, dragging a floral suitcase behind her like she was about to move in.

“Lila!” she squealed. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

“What…Mom?”

She dropped her bag and pulled me into a hug before I could even step back.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve missed your face. I thought it was about time I paid you a visit. You don’t mind, do you?”

I stared at her, still in shock, while she breezed past me into my apartment.

I hadn’t seen her in so long and I definitely wasn't expecting her. And now… she was right here?

Just like that?

She turned around with a grin. “You weren’t expecting me, were you?”