Sarah
I wake up when the sunlight hits my eyes, warm and persistent against my eyelids. For a mont, I’m confused. Then everything from last night slowly cos back to .
The argunt.
The tension.
The shower.
Matthew.
I blink a few tis, letting my eyes adjust to the morning light spilling across the room. I shift slightly and realize I’m not alone. His arm is draped over my waist, heavy and warm, his body pressed close behind mine.
I don’t move. I barely breathe. I just lie there.
Sothing tells to look at the ti, so I reach for my phone on the nightstand next to . I look at it and gasp.
"The eting!" I yelp.
Matthew stirs behind , his grip tightening instinctively as I try to sit up.
"What eting?" he mumbles, his voice still heavy with sleep.
I twist around, pulling the sheet with . "I have to be at the board eting in less than an hour!"
He blinks a few tis, processing, then runs a hand through his ssy hair. "You didn’t set an alarm?"
I glare at him like it’s sohow his fault. "I always set an alarm. You distracted ."
He smirks. "You didn’t seem very distracted last night."
I groan, throwing the sheets off. "Not the ti, Matthew!"
I jump out of bed and scramble for the clothes in the dresser. Then I run to the bathroom to splash water on my face, brush my teeth in record ti, and return to find Matthew still in bed, watching with a lazy expression.
"You’re really not gonna help?" I snap.
"What do you want to do? Brush your hair?"
"Not helping!" I grab my bag and throw my phone in it. "Are you not going to work?"
"I feel like staying in today. Is that okay with you...Boss?" he asks, cocking his head.
Is he flirting with ?
"Y...yeah...fine. I will see you when I get ho. Bye," I say and rush out of the house.
I rush inside my car and ask my driver to drive as fast as he can and then lean back.
God...this is all Matthew’s fault. If he hadn’t made love to so sweetly last night. If his warmth hadn’t put into this deep sleep, I would’ve woken up this morning just fine.
I cross my arms and glare out the window as the car speeds down the road, my heart still thudding too fast.
Last night was supposed to be the usual tension. Another argunt. More cold silence.
But it wasn’t.
It was soft. Intimate. Real.
And now I’m late, flustered, and completely thrown off balance.
"Ma’am?" my driver, Aaron, says, glancing at through the rearview mirror. "We’re almost there."
"Thank you," I reply, sitting up straighter and checking my reflection in my phone screen. My hair’s a bit wild. I smooth it down and reapply a bit of gloss, wishing I had ti for a proper touch-up.
As we pull up to the company building, I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and step out of the car like I didn’t just fall asleep wrapped up in the man who’s been emotionally tornting for months.
I make it inside with five minutes to spare. Not ideal, but not the worst. I give the receptionist a tight smile and take the elevator up to the conference floor.
I push open the door, and all eyes turn to .
"Ah, there she is," says Martin, one of the older board mbers declares.
I smile at them. "Sorry I am late. Let’s begin."
I take my seat at the head of the table, set down my bag, and open my laptop.
I try to focus on the presentations. Financials. Departnt reports. Strategic planning. I nod at the right tis and ask a few sharp questions, but I’m aware, too aware of the way my mind keeps drifting back to Matthew.
The way his voice sounded when he called Boss with that lazy smirk.
"Sarah?" Martin’s voice cuts into my thoughts.
I blink and look up. "Yes?"
He raises a brow. "Are you okay with moving forward with the restructuring plan for Q3?"
Right. Restructuring. I click back to the right tab on my laptop.
"Yes," I say confidently. "Let’s move forward. But I want weekly reports and updated projections before the next quarter."
Martin nods, satisfied, and the eting rolls on.
Half of is here. The other half is still at ho with Matthew.
Why did he want to stay ho anyway? Maybe he would like to et here for lunch?
I shake my head. Why do I feel so nervous? Having lunch with my husband shouldn’t feel like such a revolutionary proposition. I can just ask him.
"And finally," Martin says, "the acquisition proposal from Westfield Industries."
My attention snaps back instantly. This is the part I can’t afford to miss.
"Their final offer ca in yesterday," Martin continues, sliding a folder toward . "Twenty percent higher than their initial proposition."
For the next thirty minutes, I listen carefully, taking notes and forcing myself to be fully present. This is my company. My responsibility. My father’s legacy that is now mine.
After the eting, I stare at Matthew’s number for a full minute before typing: "Free for lunch? We could et at that Italian place you like."
I send it before I can overthink it, then set my phone down and turn to the stack of reports waiting for my review.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzes.
"I am busy," he wrote.
I stare at the ssage, feeling disappointed. Busy? He just decided to stay ho this morning. What plans could he possibly have made so quickly?
Unless he had them all along.
I look up as I hear soone knock on my door. Sophia, my assistant, offers a nervous smile. "Um...Sarah. Soone sent you so flowers. Do you want to put them on your desk?"
I blink at Sophia, caught completely off guard. Flowers?
"Flowers?" I echo my thought. "From who?"
She shrugs, already stepping into the office with a large, elegant bouquet in her arms, pale pink roses, and a few sprigs of eucalyptus wrapped in soft cream paper and tied with a satin ribbon.
She sets them gently on my desk. "There’s a card," she says quietly, then slips back out, leaving alone with the unexpected gesture.
I stare at the bouquet for a long second before reaching for the small white envelope tucked among the stems. My heart thuds as I open it.
"Just wanted to congratulate you on your pregnancy. You will be a great mother, Sarah." —Love, Josh.
I smile at the note. This really is unexpected. Josh is the sweetest.
At least soone cares about .
~-~
I get ho pretty late and is surprised to find Matthew ho.
"Hey," I chirp.
Matthew narrows his eyes. "Why are you so cheerful? Did sothing happen at work?"
I hesitate. If I tell Matthew about the flowers, I bet he will be jealous. The thought gives a secret satisfaction, so I go for it. "I got surprised by flowers today, so it made my day," I say, smiling brightly.
Matthew’s jaw tightens almost instantly. "Flowers?" he asks. "From who?"
"Josh," I say, as if it’s no big deal. "He left a sweet note too. Said I’d make a great mother."
There’s a beat of silence. A muscle in Matthew’s jaw twitches. "That asshole..."
"Matthew! You have no right to call him that. At least he thought of and sent flowers," I protest.
"Oh yeah? What kind of flowers?" he growls.
I give him a puzzled look. What does it matter what kind of flowers he sent? "He sent these gorgeous pink roses," I reply.
Matthew scoffs.
"What?" I glare at him. "Do you have sothing to say?"
"Dude thinks he is in love with you but doesn’t even rember your favorite flowers," he says.
I blink. "What do you..."
"You love white Lillies, not roses," he reminds as if I don’t know my own favorite flowers.
"You...how do you know that?" I breathe.
"Sweetheart. You used to co to my office, babbling about things you love, rember? Of course I fucking know what your favorite flowers are," Matthew says mockingly. "I also know your favorite food, your favorite color, your dream vacation, yada yada. God, you used to talk my damn head off," he grumbled.
I stare at him.
And then, I can feel a smile spreading across my face before I can stop it, warmth flooding through my chest.
He rembers.
All those tis I sat in his office, rambling while he pretended to work. I thought he was just tolerating , but he was listening. Really listening.
"So Josh sent you roses," Matthew continues, leaning against the wall now, watching with those intense eyes. "And what exactly did his note say again?"
I walk closer to him, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Just that I’ll be a good mother."
"How would he know that?" he barks, his face twisted into a frown as if he is irritated.
But his harshness does not bother this ti. All I feel is giddiness.
Matthew rembers all my favorite things.
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