Chapter 44 #44
Chapter 44
~Shailyn~
After the hospital visit, I was genuinely exhausted.
I barely remembered walking to our room.
I slept all through till the afternoon, the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that comes from complete physical and emotional depletion.
When I finally woke up, the room was filled with soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains.
The baby, I thought, my hand immediately going to my stomach. My little bean.
The door opened quietly, and Dante stepped in.
"You're awake," he said, his face lighting up with that smile that always made my heart skip. "I was starting to worry. You've been out for hours."
"What time is it?" I asked, my voice still rough with sleep.
"Almost three," he said. He sat beside me on the edge of the bed. His hand immediately found mine, fingers intertwining. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," I admitted. "But better. Less overwhelmed."
"Sorry my love." He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly.
He kissed me then, soft and sweet, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. When he pulled back, his thumb stroked my skin gently.
"I love you so much," he whispered.
"I love you too."
A thought occurred to me. Something I'd been wondering about for days but hadn't quite worked up the courage to ask.
"Dante," I said carefully, watching his face. "When are we going back to our home?"
He seemed taken aback, like he actually didn't expect the question. His expression flickered with something I couldn't quite identify.
"Uh... we will go soon, baby," he said.
I pressed on, needing to understand. "It's just that staying at the manor is nice, but I want to see our actual home. The place where we built our life together. Maybe being there will help me remember some sweet moments of ours. Some of the good times we had."
"Of course," Dante said quickly, composing himself. "Of course, baby. That makes perfect sense. We'll go soon, I promise."
There was something in his tone that made me think he was deflecting, but before I could question it further, his entire demeanor shifted. A smile spread across his face, genuine and excited.
"Actually," he said, standing up suddenly, "I have a surprise for you, baby."
"A surprise?" I asked, sitting up more fully. "What kind of surprise?"
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" He grinned, that playful expression making him look younger, more carefree. "But trust me, you're going to love it."
"When?"
"This evening," he said. "I'll take you there at seven. That gives you a few hours to rest more, freshen up, get ready."
"Dante, what is it?" I pressed, curiosity eating at me.
"You'll see," he said. "Just trust me. Have I ever let you down?"
I thought about it, searching through my fragmented memories. "No," I said honestly.
"Exactly." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "So trust me on this. It's going to be perfect."
He left the house, saying he had some things to arrange, some calls to make.
I decided to make myself a little something to eat. I was craving pancakes. Pancakes with whipped cream topping.
I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. The manor was quiet, and I assumed I was alone in the house.
But when I pushed open the kitchen door, I found I was wrong.
Dwayne was there, standing at the gas, and he was making some pretty good-looking pancakes. The smell hit me immediately, and I was instantly drooling at the sight.
"Hi, Shailyn," he said, looking up with a small smile. "How are you?"
"I'm good," I managed, trying not to stare too obviously at the pancakes.
He noticed anyway, of course. His smile widened, becoming more genuine. "Want some?"
I hesitated, torn between politeness and the intense craving making my mouth water. "Umm, yeah. I mean, no..."
He laughed, and God, his laugh was so beautiful. Rich and warm and completely unguarded. It made something flutter in my chest that I immediately tried to ignore.
Wait, what? No, no, no. Focus, Shailyn.
"You know you can just say you want it, right?" Dwayne said, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Here, have some."
"Thank you so much," I said gratefully, moving to sit at the kitchen island.
He slid a plate across to me, the pancakes perfectly golden and fluffy. "Umm, I want some toppings," I said hesitantly.
"Which?" He was already reaching for the refrigerator.
"Whipped cream."
"Okay."
I watched as he carefully added whipped cream to my pancakes, the precise way his hands moved, the concentration on his face. Then he took out fruit juice for me and poured a glass of water beside it.
"It's all healthy for the baby," he said, setting everything in front of me.
"Thank you, Dwayne," I said, genuinely touched by his consideration.
He sat down across from me with his own plate, and I took a bite of the pancakes. They were incredible, light and fluffy with just the right amount of sweetness.
"Wow, this is so good," I said enthusiastically.
“Thank you.” he said.
“These are really amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?"
"Picked it up during my time in Asia," he said, taking a bite of his own pancakes.
"That makes sense," I said. "What was it like? Living there, I mean."
"Different," he said thoughtfully. "Challenging. But good. It gave me perspective."
I found myself surprisingly comfortable with him. Despite the fact that I barely knew him, despite the awkwardness of my amnesia and all the family drama, talking to Dwayne felt... natural. Easy.
"You know," I said after a while, "what's left is for your woman to start enjoying home-cooked meals from her man."
Something changed in Dwayne's expression. His eyes locked with mine, intense and meaningful in a way that made my breath catch.
"Sure, she will," he said, his voice lower now, more intimate. "And she has even started."
The way he said it, maintaining eye contact with me, his words held so much meaning I couldn't help but feel there was more to it. More than just a casual comment about some hypothetical girlfriend.
Maybe he has a girlfriend already? Who knows?
But the thought made something twist uncomfortably in my stomach, and I quickly pushed it away.
"Thank you again for the pancakes. They were really delicious."
"Anytime," Dwayne said, his eyes following me across the kitchen.
I went back upstairs, my mind swirling with confused thoughts I didn't want to examine too closely.
…
I woke up a few hours later to the sound of my phone alarm. Six-thirty. Time to start getting ready for Dante's surprise.
I showered, taking extra time to make myself look nice. I chose a simple but elegant dress, pale blue and packed my hair up.
Dante knocked on the door right on time, looking handsome in dark jeans and a button-down shirt that made his eyes stand out.
"Ready?" he asked, extending his hand.
"Ready," I confirmed, taking it.
We went down to the car, and he helped me in with exaggerated care, making sure I was comfortable before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side.
As we pulled away from the manor, I tried to guess where we might be going.
But the route we took seemed to lead away from the city center, toward more residential areas.
We went down a route which seemed familiar but at the same time unfamiliar. The streets triggered something in the back of my mind, a sense of recognition that I couldn't quite grasp.
I was trying to figure it out, but headache was forming already.
"Are you okay, baby?" Dante asked immediately, his hand reaching over to rest on my knee.
"Yeah, I am," I said, taking his hand and squeezing it. The pain receded slightly at his touch, the warmth of his palm grounding me.
Finally, Dante turned into a driveway. A beautiful two-story house came into view, modern architecture with large windows and a perfectly manicured lawn. There was something about it that made my heart beat faster, though I couldn't say why.
We got down from the car, and I stood there, staring at the house, trying to understand why it felt so significant.
Dante came around to stand beside me, his arm sliding around my waist.
"Welcome to our home, baby," he said softly.
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"Home?" I whispered, my eyes still fixed on the house.
"This is where we live," Dante confirmed, his grip on my waist tightening slightly. "This is the home we built together, Shailyn. Our home.”