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The room was quiet except for the sound of our uneven breathing. My mind and body drained from the wave of pleasure and ecstasy I had just come down from. I knew that Kade Carter was an amazing man but I had no idea that he was an amazing lover as well.
"God, you're amazing." The man of my dreams muttered into my messy hair before he pulled away and plopped on the bed next to me, his heavy breathing music to my ears. We stayed like that for what felt like forever before I chuckled and he followed suit. "That was…" "Amazing?" He finished for me, propping up on one arm to look at me. I gazed into his eyes, touching his face, so happy that I was finally with my knight in shining armor. Kade Carter. After five years of looking for this man. Five years of wanting to be by his side after he shielded me from that staged mugging and saved my life, I was finally in his arms. This was truly amazing. Dreams really do come true. "You can take a picture you know." He poked, twirling my hair in his hand before pecking my cheek and getting off the bed. I blushed, realizing that I had been staring while my mind flitted back to the past for a second. "I just might." I teased, my eyes trailing his ass and then his broad back, nasty thoughts plaguing my mind once more but just as my eyes reached the tip of his right shoulder, everything stopped. I blinked. Then I blinked again. The pleasure drained out of me so fast it was almost physical, like someone had pulled a plug and left me hanging on for dear life. The hell? His right shoulder was smooth. There was no mole. I sat up slowly, a pit slowly forming in my chest. "So, maybe I just freshen up and make you some breakfast or maybe I have you for breakfast again and we order in some room service?" He offered, turning to me with a raised brow and lust in his eyes. I said nothing for a second, just stared into space. My Kade had a mole, so distinct that I had memorised it from the one night I had been close enough to see it during the attack. It was the kind of mark you could not miss and this man did not have it. I swallowed hard. This was not Kade Carter. The realisation set in and all I could do was grimace. I had tracked him down. I had found a way into his bed. My mouth had watered at being so close to him last night and now I felt like I had been through a drought for months. How had I not looked sooner? How had I been so stupid? I chuckled nervously and scooted off the bed, trying to keep my face neutral while my insides were doing somersaults. "I don't think I'll stay for breakfast. I have a long day ahead of me and after that amazing sex, it was just the pick-me-up I needed to get through it." I praised him as I picked up my clothes from the floor, rushing to put them on and get out before he could see past the act but he was perceptive enough to stop me, arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me into that strong chest of his. "Hmm, just stay for a little while. I'll handle work for you." He whispered into my ear, his nose rubbing my neck as his now rock hard dick poked the small of my back. Any other day that might have worked. Today it just made my skin crawl with guilt. I quickly pulled away and shot him a smirk, putting on my best seductress act. "Well, maybe you'll end up seeing me again. Who knows?" "Or I could see you again if you just come for dinner? I can cook a mean alfredo pasta." He said, taking a step towards me as I wore my clothes. I gave him a look and plucked my bag from the floor. "We'll see." The mystery man grinned, running his hand through his hair. "We'll see then." I put on my shoes and rushed towards the door to leave when I paused, my hand on the frame. My mind was still running in circles and there was a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that I could not shake. This man was not Kade Carter but he looked exactly the same, like a perfect copy that it was unsettling. I had to know who he was. I needed it to make sense. I turned to him, his eyes still on me. "By the way, I never did get your name after…" "After you pulled me away from the hotel bar and fucked my brains out?" He finished for me, making me laugh awkwardly. "Yeah." "I know your name though, miss Mia Perez." "But yours is?" I pressed, holding his gaze. "My name's Killian. Killian Carter." Carter? As in Kade's family name? They were too alike and this was too much of a coincidence to be anything else. Killian had to be Kade's brother, or his cousin, or his twin to have completely fooled me. When I came to, I smiled at him. "I guess I'll see you around Killian Carter." I told him, the lie flowing from my mouth effortlessly. Before Killian could even say another word I was out the door and rushing to my car in the hotel parking lot. As soon as I got in, I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and just sat there for a moment, staring at nothing, the full weight of what I had done pressing down on me. Then I let my forehead drop against the wheel and groaned. "How could you sleep with the wrong guy, Mia? Ugh." I stayed like that for what felt like hours before I pulled out my phone with a sigh and started digging. A few clicks on the right name told me everything. Killian Carter was Kade's twin. I had climbed into bed with Kade Carter's identical twin brother like some kind of spectacular idiot and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it now. Killian had been in the city while Kade had been abroad for months, closing a business deal and there was no news on when he was coming back to New York. I turned off my phone, chucked it in the passenger seat and turned on my car, wanting to leave this place when there was a ring from my phone. I glanced over at the text message from an unknown number. Killian here. I wanted to make sure that you had my number, princess. See you soon. I stared at it for a second too long before turning the phone face down and peeling out of the parking lot. There was only one reasonable thing left to do after a morning like this. Drink and forget that this ever happened.Hope's GCSE results arrived in August, on a Thursday morning that began like any other Thursday morning in the household and then, at precisely eight-thirty when the results portal opened, became something else.She had taken eleven subjects and the results were released simultaneously, which meant that the specific quality of the morning was the particular, suspended stillness of waiting for a comprehensive accounting rather than a single outcome.She sat at the kitchen table with her laptop, the three of us arranged around her with the deliberate casualness of people trying not to communicate the level of attention they were actually paying, and opened the results with the composed, methodical quality that was simply how she engaged with things she'd worked toward.She read them. All eleven, in the order they appeared on the screen, with the focused, absorbing attention of someone making sure they'd understood what they were seeing before forming a response.Then she set the laptop
The second book was finished in December, on a Tuesday afternoon when both children were at school and the house had the particular, quiet quality of winter daylight that made the kitchen feel like the only warm place in the world.I wrote the last paragraph at the kitchen table, in the same notebook Killian had given me years ago, now full enough that the pages at the back had the specific, compressed quality of a document that had held a great deal, and I sat with it for a while after I'd finished, the way you sat with something that had required a long time and a great deal of honesty to complete and that you were not quite ready to release from your immediate attention into the world.The second book was different from the first in every way that mattered. The first had been, essentially, autobiography, the honest account of a practice I'd lived and the understanding that practice had produced. The second was something harder, the attempt to write accurately about experiences I ha
Hope's GCSEs began in May of the following year, which meant that the autumn before them had the particular, charged quality of the last significant stretch of preparation before something real and irreversible.She approached it the way she approached everything that mattered, with thorough preparation and contained intensity, the revision schedule refined from the previous year's version into something more sophisticated, the methodology updated in response to what the first year had taught her about her own learning patterns.She had, by this point, a fairly precise understanding of how she worked. Which conditions produced her best thinking. Which subjects required the most active effort and which could be sustained through lighter maintenance. When she needed other people around her and when she needed solitude. How much rest was the point at which more rest became avoidance rather than recovery.This self-knowledge was not the result of a single insight but of years of quiet, ho
Summer came back to the garden the way it always did, with the particular, generous confidence of something that knew its own timing and had no interest in being rushed or delayed by external expectation.Killian's beds were at their peak by July, the climbing plants having reached and exceeded their supports in the way they did every year, the tomatoes producing with the consistency that his years of documented attention had made predictable, and Hope's wasabi corner, now in its seventh year, representing something that the commercial growers she still corresponded with occasionally referred to in their communications as a genuinely notable achievement for the growing conditions involved.She had long since stopped being surprised by this and had moved into the comfortable, matter-of-fact relationship with her own expertise that was her characteristic mode for things she'd worked at long enough to know well.Eli's portion of the garden, which had expanded from the small observation c
Tara's collective action reached tribunal in April, eight months after she'd taken it on, and the quality of the proceeding was exactly what she'd been warned it would be and had prepared for anyway, the opposing legal team deploying every available mechanism to make the process itself as grinding and expensive as possible, the substance of the case almost secondary to the attrition being waged around it.She called me on the evening of the second day, not for reassurance, which she didn't need or want, but for the specific, practical kind of thinking-out-loud that she'd learned, over four years, was available from me in the way it was available from very few other people."They introduced a procedural challenge this afternoon," she said. "Technically sound but transparently tactical. It bought them two days of delay and cost us a not-insignificant amount of preparation time to counter.""Expected," I said."Yes," she said. "I expected it. I'm not surprised. I'm noting it because I wa
The new year arrived quietly, as it had the habit of doing in our household by now, the transition from one year to the next marked less by the specific occasion and more by the particular quality of attention that January always brought, the annual, private accounting of what the previous twelve months had contained and what the next might require.Hope stayed up until midnight, as she had for several years now, and Eli lasted until ten before the particular, absolute quality of his sleep arrived and overrode his intentions. Killian carried him to bed with the practiced ease that had never entirely lost its tenderness, and returned to the back step where Kade and Hope and I were watching whatever fragments of fireworks were visible above the garden walls."Another year," Hope said, at midnight, with the specific, satisfied tone she used for the confirmation of logistical milestones."Another year," I agreed."A good one?" she asked, which was her annual question, directed at all thre
I woke up the next morning to my head splitting in two from a migraine. I groaned and pushed myself off the bed, dreading the work day ahead of me already. After that dinner with Killian and Kade, well, the train wreck I barely survived, I had headed home and forced myself to go to bed. Unfortunate
"Who's dating Killian?"I knew who spoke before I saw his face. That voice was unmistakable. I pulled away from Killian and turned to come face to face with Kade. His gray eyes landed on me and he made a face, like he had seen me somewhere before but couldn't quite place his finger on it.I stayed
It took an entire bottle of bourbon to make me forget what I had done days ago and an entire barrage of messages from Killian to bring me back to reality. I grimaced at my phone screen when another text from him popped up. This was his fifteenth one in three days and even after I blocked him, Killi
The walk to my office felt like a funeral procession with an open casket, like everyone could see me dead and at my worst.The glass walls of the hallway were the windows of an aquarium. I and the Carter twins were on display for the people to watch.The moment the door to my office clicked shut, I







