Chapter 53: Closer Than Expected

The bed felt too big.

Katherine turned for the third time, pulling the blanket tighter, but nothing helped. Not the glass of wine, not the half-watched documentary still playing in the background, not even the podcast that had ended an hour ago.

Sleep was nowhere to be found. But the ghost of his touch? Everywhere.

She was just about to give up and check emails —because, apparently, insomnia meant productivity now — when her phone lit up on the nightstand.

Sebastian Mason

Incoming FaceTime call

Her breath caught. It was 2:04 a.m.

“What the hell…” she whispered, then hit Accept before she could talk herself out of it.

“Hi.” His voice was low, warm, and… so damn real.

He looked tired. Fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, white T-shirt slightly wrinkled, eyes heavy but steady on her.

“Did I wake you?”

She scoffed, adjusting the robe around her shoulders. “Do I look like someone who was asleep?”

He gave a small smirk. “No. You look like someone who forgot her bra again.”

“Sebastian!” she hissed, instantly tucking the robe tighter. But her cheeks were already flushed, her pulse quickening.

“I’m kidding,” he said, leaning back against the headboard, the hotel room behind him dimly lit. “Mostly.”

Katherine rolled her eyes, but the tension in her chest loosened. “Why are you calling me at two in the morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “And I figured… maybe you couldn’t either.”

There was a pause. Not awkward. Just thick with something neither of them was ready to name.

“I miss you,” she said quietly, surprising even herself. “More than I should.”

Sebastian blinked slowly. No teasing smile this time. Just a long, unreadable stare.

Then: “Then maybe I should stop making you wait.”

Her heart skipped. “That’s not what I meant —”

“But maybe it’s what I needed to hear,” he cut in, softer now.

They stayed like that for a while. Saying nothing. Just being.

Somewhere between the silences, their breathing synced. Hers calmer. His steadier.

He spoke again, voice nearly a whisper: “What would you be doing if I were there right now?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Stealing your pillow.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always do that.”

“It smells like you,” she said simply. “It helps.”

Another pause.

“Go to sleep, Katherine.”

“I’m trying.”

“Close your eyes.”

“You first.”

She didn’t know who hung up first. Only that when she opened her eyes twenty minutes later, the screen was black, but the warmth lingered.

And for the first time in days, she fell asleep smiling.

---

There was something dangerous about wearing confidence. Especially in the form of Italian leather heels with crimson soles.

Katherine clicked into the office, steps firm, hips set, espresso in hand. The shoes Sebastian had sent still felt like a dare. An invitation. A warning.

She didn’t care.

She looked incredible.

Sharp navy pantsuit. Loose curls. A subtle red lip. And the shoes — God, the shoes — like armor she wasn’t planning to take off. Not for anyone.

The meeting was scheduled for 9:00 a.m. sharp in the executive conference room. She wasn’t nervous. Not until Amanda, the COO, stopped her at the door with a smile far too tight to be casual.

“You’re early,” Amanda noted.

“I like to breathe before the sharks arrive,” Katherine replied smoothly, offering a practiced smile.

“Oh, darling,” Amanda murmured, eyes flicking down to the shoes. “They’re already here.”

Katherine frowned. That’s when she heard the voice from inside the room.

Female. Polished. Unmistakably East Coast.

And familiar.

No.

No way.

Amanda pushed the door open just wide enough, letting Katherine slip in.

There she was.

Evelyn Mason.

Yes. That Mason.

Sebastian’s mother. Chairwoman of Mason Equity Group. And possibly the most terrifying woman in a ten-thousand-mile radius.

She turned slowly. Took one look at Katherine. And smiled.

That smile. Cold. Calculated. Almost impressed.

“You must be Katherine Brown,” Evelyn said, standing with the kind of presence that turned seasoned CEOs into interns.

“I am,” Katherine replied, managing to keep her voice steady. “You must be —”

“A concerned party,” Evelyn interrupted, motioning toward the seat across from her. “Sit. I want to see what kind of woman wears those shoes to a Tuesday morning meeting.”

Katherine sat. Chin up. Shoulders relaxed. Heart pounding.

She’d handled hedge fund executives, chaotic teams, and one very grumpy Sebastian Mason. She could handle this.

“I hear you’re responsible for the Maddox pitch,” Evelyn said, crossing her legs with grace honed by decades of silent dominance.

“I led the creative and presentation strategy, yes.”

“A bold move. No approval from Sebastian?”

“It was a time-sensitive opportunity,” Katherine answered, lips curving. “He trusted me to make the call. I didn’t disappoint.”

Evelyn tilted her head slightly, appraising. “You know, when I saw the shoes, I thought — ah, yes. Another one who thinks she can keep up.”

“And?” Katherine asked.

“And now I’m not so sure you’re wrong.”

Katherine’s eyes held steady. “They’re just shoes.”

Evelyn leaned forward. “No, dear. They’re not. Not when he sends them.”

The air in the room dropped a few degrees. There it was. The implication.

Katherine didn’t flinch.

“I wasn’t aware my footwear had a footnote,” she said coolly. “I thought we were here to discuss investment strategies.”

“We are.” Evelyn smiled again. This time, it almost reached her eyes. “I just wanted to know if the woman my son won’t shut up about had teeth. And it appears she does.”

That last line hit harder than expected.

Katherine blinked. “He talks about me?”

Evelyn stood, smoothing her skirt. “Constantly. It’s starting to affect his boardroom performance. That’s either a disaster — or a miracle. We’ll see.”

She walked to the door, paused, then looked back.

“By the way… next time, choose a different lipstick. Red makes you predictable.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Katherine sat still for a full ten seconds. Then looked down at the shoes.

They definitely weren’t just shoes.

They were a line in the sand.

And she’d just crossed it — without tripping.

---

The wine was cheap. The playlist was soft. The world outside was asleep.

Katherine sat cross-legged on the couch, drowning in her oversized hoodie and tartan pajama shorts, glasses perched low on her nose, a half-written email glowing on the screen in front of her. A face mask was still drying on her cheekbones, and her hair? Messy bun. Possibly criminal.

She looked like absolutely no one’s fantasy.

And that was the point.

He wasn’t supposed to come back tonight.

The Vegas trip was running over — Sebastian had texted her something vague about investors, rescheduling, and "don’t wait up."

She hadn’t.

That’s why when the front door clicked, her whole body jolted.

She stared at it. Heart in her throat.

The laptop slid off her knees and hit the couch with a thud.

Her wine glass trembled on the coffee table.

Then —

“I told you,” came the low voice. The one her entire nervous system had apparently memorized.

“I’m coming home.”

She turned slowly.

There he stood.

Sebastian Mason. Slightly unshaven. Tired eyes. Wrinkled white shirt under an open charcoal coat. One hand still on the doorknob. The other holding a travel bag.

She blinked once. Twice.

“You said Friday.”

He dropped the bag. Locked the door behind him. “It’s technically Friday.”

“It’s Tuesday.”

He glanced at the clock. “For another thirty-eight minutes.”

She should’ve said something witty. She should’ve run upstairs to make herself presentable.

She did neither.

Katherine stood, awkward in her bare legs and ridiculous avocado socks. “You’re not supposed to see me like this.”

He tilted his head. “You think I care what you’re wearing?”

“I look like a tired librarian with commitment issues.”

Sebastian stepped closer. “You look like the only thing I’ve wanted all damn week.”

Her breath caught.

He didn’t kiss her. Not yet. Just closed the distance, gently took her hand, and looked down at her.

The silence between them wasn’t heavy. It was honest.

For the first time in days, there was no strategy. No game. No pretending this was casual.

He ran his thumb over her knuckles.

“I couldn’t stay another night in that hotel,” he murmured. “Not with you here. Like this. Like... home.”

Her eyes shimmered. “You didn’t even text.”

“I didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“I know.”

The stillness that followed felt sacred.

Then he leaned in. Pressed his forehead to hers. Exhaled.

“I missed you,” he whispered. “In ways I didn’t think I was allowed to.”

She melted. Not dramatically. Just—softened.

Like everything inside her finally stopped bracing.

They didn’t make love that night.

They didn’t tear each other’s clothes off or crash into walls or break furniture.

They just… curled up under the blanket. Side by side. Limbs tangled. Breath slow.

At some point, Katherine reached out in the dark and placed her palm on his chest.

“Is this what normal couples do?” she asked sleepily.

He laughed, a low rumble. “Probably not. Normal couples don’t scare each other like we do.”

She smiled into his shoulder. “Good. Normal sounds boring.”

A pause.

Then, so quiet it almost got lost in the hush of midnight:

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she whispered.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.

Instead, he kissed the top of her head.

And stayed silent.

Not because he didn’t feel it.

But because some things, even for Sebastian Mason, needed to be said in the morning — when they could be believed.

---