Chapter 8 No
Amelia approached slowly, careful not to make a sound. She bent at the knees, arms sliding beneath Pete’s small body. Her jaw tightened slightly with the effort as she lifted him, adjusting him until his head rested against her chest. Pete shifted once, his face pressing into her shoulder, but he didn’t wake.
Amelia inhaled, a soft sound catching in her throat.
Andrew watched closely, his eyes following every movement.
She carried Pete toward the stairs, her steps measured and quiet. Andrew followed behind, one hand brushing the railing as they ascended. Halfway up, Andrew slowed.
“I need to use the restroom,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” Amelia replied without looking back.
Andrew turned away, footsteps fading down the hall.
Amelia continued until she reached a bedroom. She nudged the door open with her shoulder. It creaked faintly, and she froze, breath held. When Pete didn’t stir, she stepped inside and gently pushed the door shut behind her. The latch clicked softly.
She crossed the room, lowered Pete onto the bed, and eased his limbs into a comfortable position. She pulled the blanket up to his chest, smoothing it down carefully.
Then she sat.
Her fingers slipped into his hair, slow and deliberate, brushing through the soft strands.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered. “Cute little you.”
Pete shifted, brows knitting together.
“Mom?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “Is that you?”
Amelia’s hand stilled for a fraction of a second.
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hush. “Shhh,” she said softly. “Go back to sleep.”
Her fingers resumed their gentle motion, stroking his hair, tracing his temple.
Pete exhaled and went still again.
Amelia’s lips curved slowly.
“I’m not your mom,” she whispered, so quietly it barely carried. “But I’ll be better.”
She stood, adjusted the blanket one last time, then turned and slipped out of the room, pulling the door closed just enough to keep it from making a sound.
In the hallway, Andrew was already walking toward her.
“I tucked him in,” Amelia said immediately. “He’s sleeping. Don’t disturb him.”
Andrew raised both hands slightly, grinning. “Okay, boss.”
She shot him a look, amused, and they turned together toward the master bedroom.
Andrew pushed the door open, stepping aside to let her enter first.
“He’s such a nice boy,” Amelia said, sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed.
“He is,” Andrew replied, moving closer. “I told you so.”
He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against her lips. Amelia smiled against his mouth.
“You did tell me so,” she said.
Andrew dropped back onto the bed with a heavy exhale. “It’s been a long day.”
“It really has,” Amelia said, lying beside him.
She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then turned her head toward him. “From hearing the good news about Maggie… and finally meeting Pete.”
Andrew’s lips twitched. “Yeah.”
He turned onto his side, propping his head up slightly. “This time yesterday, I was sick with worry,” he said quietly. “I thought I was on borrowed time. If she woke up and remembered everything, I’d be done.”
Amelia reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers.
“But now?” she asked.
“Now?” Andrew smiled. “Now I have all the time I want.”
Amelia squeezed his hand. “We have all the time we want.”
Andrew nodded. “We just have to figure out the right plan to get her out of our lives for good.”
Amelia’s expression hardened just slightly before softening again. “We will.”
She shifted closer. “I’m beginning to really like Pete,” she said slowly. “As if he were my own.”
Andrew studied her face.
“I’ll do anything,” Amelia continued, “to make him mine.”
Andrew leaned in, their foreheads touching. “We will,” he said, voice low, resolute.
She smiled, then pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?” Andrew asked.
“For making my day.”
She pulled the blanket up around herself and settled against the pillows. “Goodnight.”
Andrew reached for the lamp on the nightstand and switched it off. Darkness swallowed the room.
“Goodnight,” he said.
The house fell silent.
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'THE FOLLOWING MORNING'
Amelia’s eyes fluttered open slowly. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, her brows knitting as she adjusted to the dimness of the room. She turned her head slightly, reached out, and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. The glow from the screen washed over her face instantly.
She squinted.
“Six forty-seven,” she whispered.
She dropped the phone back on the nightstand and sat up abruptly.
“Haaahhh,” she yawned, stretching both arms over her head, her shoulders rolling back.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Andrew’s voice came from beside her, warm and amused.
Amelia turned toward him, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. “Morning,” she said softly. “Did I wake you?”
Andrew shook his head, pushing himself up on one elbow. “No. I’ve been awake for about an hour now.”