Chapter 32
Adam's POV:
"So." Ethan leaned back, swirling his glass. "You gonna tell me what's going on, or are we just gonna sit here until you drink yourself into a coma?"
I didn't answer. Just poured another whiskey.
"Come on, man. You called me out here. The least you can do is—"
"Would you miss someone who dumped you?"
Ethan blinked. "What?"
He stared at me for a long moment. Then his eyes widened. "Holy shit. You're still hung up on that girl from five years ago? The one who—"
"Don't."
"Adam, come on. It's been five years." He set his glass down, leaning forward. "That's ancient history. Old news. Whatever happened back then, you need to let it go. Move on. She was just someone who was after your money. Gold-digger bullshit. You dodged a bullet."
I laughed. It came out harsh. Bitter.
"No, seriously. You know what?" He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing. "That girl at the used car place? She's worth thinking about. Gorgeous. I mean, damn. That skin. That hair. And when the wind blew through it, I swear to God—"
I moved before I thought.
Grabbed him by the collar. Shoved him back against the couch, my forearm pressed against his chest.
"Ow—Adam, what the hell—"
"Stay away from her."
His eyes went wide. "Dude. Chill. I was just—"
"I don't care what you were 'just' doing." I leaned in, voice low. Dangerous. "Don't even think about her. Got it?"
"Okay, okay! Jesus!" He shoved at my arm. "Let go, man. You're crushing my ribs."
I released him. Stepped back.
He rubbed his chest, wincing. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I didn't answer. Just grabbed the bottle and poured another glass.
Ethan watched me, confusion written all over his face. Then, slowly, realization dawned.
"Wait. Hold on." He sat up straighter. "You like her? The girl from the shop?"
Silence.
"But you also can't stop thinking about the ex who dumped you." He frowned. "So... what? You've got two women messing with your head now? Is that why you're drinking yourself stupid?"
I downed the whiskey. Set the glass on the table.
"They're the same person."
Five years ago, when I first told Ethan and Parker I had a girlfriend, they'd demanded photos. Proof. I'd refused—said they'd meet her at Christmas when I brought her back to Boston.
But we didn't make it to Christmas.
For a second, Ethan just stared at me.
Then: "What? You're shitting me."
"I'm not."
"But—" He stopped. Shook his head. "Wait. So that gorgeous woman is the same one who... Holy shit." His expression shifted. "That's the gold-digger?"
"Don't call her that."
He threw his hands up. "Okay, okay. But dude, you gotta admit, this is insane. You've been obsessing over this woman for five years, and she just... shows up? In Boston?"
"I know."
"And you're still—" He stopped. Stared at me. "You're still into her."
I didn't deny it.
"Adam." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Man, listen to me. You can't make the same mistake twice. There are plenty of women out there—beautiful women. Smart women. Women who wouldn't pull the shit she did."
He paused. "Look at me. I date around, have fun, never let anyone get under my skin. But you? Five years, man. You've been stuck on one woman for five goddamn years. And in all that time, you haven't dated anyone else."
He shook his head. "That's not healthy. You're torturing yourself over someone who left. Let it go."
---
Maya's POV:
I didn't see Adam for the rest of the week.
Not until Friday night.
Julian had dinner with a potential investor at The Langham Hotel.
I stood beside him through the whole thing, taking notes, nodding at the right moments.
By the time we finished, it was nearly nine.
"Good work tonight," Julian said as we stepped into the lobby. "I think we've got him."
"That's great."
"Yeah." He checked his phone. "Go home. Get some rest."
I nodded. Started toward the exit.
And then I saw him.
Adam.
He was walking through the lobby with a group of men—all in suits, all wearing that same look of power and entitlement that came with too much money and too little accountability.
He was at the front. Tall. Sharp. Untouchable.
His eyes swept over the lobby—bored, disinterested—and for a split second, they landed on me.
Cold.
No recognition. No acknowledgment.
Just a flicker of grey-green, and then he looked away.
I'd told myself I was ready for this. Built up walls, prepared myself for whatever cold indifference he might throw my way.
I stepped aside, pressing my back against the wall as they passed.
---
Saturday morning, I woke up to Amy bouncing on my bed.
"Mommy! Can we go to the park?"
I groaned. Pulled the pillow over my face. "What time is it?"
"Seven-thirty!"
"Amy—"
"Please? Please, please, please?"
I peeked out from under the pillow. She was grinning at me, her blonde curls a mess, her eyes bright with excitement.
How could I say no to that?
"Fine." I sat up. "But we're getting breakfast first."
"Yay!"
---
By the time we got to the park, the sun was high and warm, the kind of late September day that felt like summer wasn't quite ready to let go.
Amy ran ahead, her sneakers kicking up dust on the path.
"Don't go too far!" I called.
"I won't!"
We ended up at the river—just a small, lazy stretch of water that wound through the park. Amy sat on the bank, legs crossed, staring at the surface like it held all the secrets of the universe.
I sat beside her. "What are you thinking about?"
"The water."
"What about it?"
"It's moving. But it's still. At the same time."
I smiled. "Yeah. I guess it is."
She watched it for another minute. Then she stood. "Can we walk in the forest?"
"The forest?"
"Over there." She pointed toward the trees on the far side of the park—thick, dense, the kind of place where the sunlight barely reached the ground.
"Sure. But stay close, okay?"
"Okay."
---
The forest was cooler. Quieter.
Amy moved slowly, her fingers trailing over tree bark, her eyes tracking the way the leaves danced in the breeze.
"Mommy, look." She pointed at a patch of sunlight breaking through the canopy. "It's like... like a spotlight."
"It is."
"Do you think the trees know it's there?"
I blinked. "What?"
"The light. Do you think they can feel it?"
"I... I don't know, sweetheart."
She nodded and kept walking.
We climbed up a small hill, the path winding between roots and rocks.
And then Amy stopped.
"Mommy."
"Yeah?"
"There's a lady down there." She pointed down the slope. "I think she's hurt."
I followed her gaze.
At the bottom of the hill, half-hidden by the underbrush, was an elderly woman sitting on the ground, one hand clutching her ankle.
"Oh my God." I grabbed Amy's hand.
She looked familiar. Like the woman I'd run into that day leaving Adam's penthouse.
Was she... Adam's grandmother?