Chapter 81 #81
Chapter 81
~Shailyn ~
I stepped through the glass doors of SentientIQ, adjusting my bag on my shoulder and schooling my face into something calm, something normal.
Normal was easier when no one looked too closely.
“Shailyn!”
I froze mid-step.
The voice hit me from behind, too familiar, too assured.
Dwayne was walking toward me, coffee in hand, jacket unbuttoned, that effortless confidence wrapped around him like a second skin. He looked awake, alert, entirely too perceptive for this early in the morning.
He looked so hot, too hot for this cold morning. My sinful behaviour last night flashed in my head and heat was pooling down there.
“Good morning,” he said, slowing to a stop in front of me. His gaze lingered on my face. “You okay? You look… flushed.”
God his voice sounds so deep and sexy. Focus Shailyn, focus. I realized I hadn't responded to him yet.
“I’m fine!” The words came out too fast, sharp and breathless. “Just warm. The building’s warm. Very warm.”
He glanced around the lobby, brows knitting slightly as his breath fogged in the cold air. “It’s literally freezing.”
“Pregnancy,” I said quickly, too quickly. “Hot flashes. Hormones. You know how it is.”
A slow, amused smile tugged at his lips. “I really don’t.”
My pulse thudded. “I should go,” I said, already stepping back. “Hannah’s waiting. Deadlines. Meetings. Very important corporate things.”
“Shailyn…”
“Bye!”
I turned before he could finish, before he could ask another question, before that look in his eyes sharpened into something dangerous.
I headed straight for the elevator, resisting the urge to run.
Inside, the doors slid shut with a soft ding, sealing me away.
I exhaled shakily, staring at my reflection in the mirrored wall.
“That was normal,” I muttered. “Very normal.”
The elevator stopped. I squared my shoulders, pasted on composure, and walked toward my desk like my heart wasn’t still racing.
“Morning, Shay!” Hannah chirped.
Her smile faded almost instantly. “Whoa. Why do you look like you just committed a crime?”
“I did not.”
“You’re red.”
“It’s the lighting.”
“You’re sweating.”
“I’m pregnant.”
She wheeled her chair closer, eyes narrowing with practiced suspicion. “Okay. Something happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
“You ran past me like you were being chased.”
“I was late.”
“You’re never late. You're not even late now.
I dropped my bag on the desk with more force than necessary. “Can we not do this right now?”
Hannah studied me for a long moment, then leaned back. “Fine. Temporary ceasefire.” She tilted her head. “But we need to talk.”
“That sounds like a trap.”
“It’s a supportive trap.”
I groaned. “What?”
“Have you considered seeing a therapist?”
I blinked. “A therapist?”
“Yes,” she said gently. “A real one. Not me. Someone who won’t accidentally overshare your secrets at brunch.”
“I don’t need therapy.”
“You lost part of your memory.”
“I’m managing.”
“You’re pregnant, confused, surrounded by secrets, and pretending you’re fine,” she said calmly. “That’s not managing. That’s surviving.”
I looked away, jaw tight.
“I did some research,” she continued. “There are therapists who specialize in memory recovery. Safe techniques. No pressure.”
“I don’t know…”
“I already found one,” Hannah said. “Dr. Susan. Amazing credentials.”
“You already…”
“And,” she added quickly, “this is my Christmas gift to you.”
I stared at her, chest tightening.
“Hannah.”
“I booked the first appointment,” she said firmly. “You can cancel if you want. But I think you deserve support.”
The room felt smaller suddenly.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“So you’ll go?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I’ll go.”
She grinned. “Good. Next week.”
She checked her phone. “Which reminds me, have you done any Christmas shopping?”
I gasped. “Christmas is next week?”
“Yes, Shay.”
“Oh my God.”
“That’s why,” she said, standing, “we’re going shopping today.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re pregnant,” she said. “That means snacks.”
“…Fine.”
…
The mall was chaotic.
Christmas music blasted from every corner, lights blinking aggressively, shoppers moving with purpose like time itself was running out.
Hannah dragged me into a luxury store without hesitation.
“Okay,” she said, clapping once. “Let’s be efficient.”
“I don’t trust you when you say that.”
“Tyler?”
“Cufflinks,” I said immediately. “Simple. Elegant.”
“Approved.”
“And Cynthia?”
I picked up a silk scarf, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. “This one. Neutral. Expensive enough to avoid complaints.”
Hannah laughed. “Strategic.”
“Monica?”
“Perfume,” she said. “The one she won’t shut up about.”
“Already planned.”
She nodded. “I’m proud of you.”
“And Dante?”
I hesitated. “A watch.”
“Good choice.”
She turned slowly. “And Dwayne?”
I stopped walking.
“Why do you say his name like that?”
“Because you paused.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“He’s family,” I said quickly. “Obviously I’m getting him something.”
“Obviously.”
I wandered toward the men’s section, suddenly very invested in not looking at her. “Tie?”
“Boring.”
“Wallet?”
“Also boring.”
“You’re impossible.”
Then I saw it.
A leather-bound journal. Hand-stitched. Simple. Thoughtful.
I picked it up without thinking.
“This.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “That’s personal.”
“It’s practical.”
“You spent twenty minutes picking it.”
“I did not.”
“You picked everyone else’s gifts in five.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
She smiled. “He’ll love it.”
I added it to my basket. “I’m also getting a gift card.”
We headed toward the checkout when something made me slow.
“Wait,” I said.
Hannah frowned. “What?”
I nodded toward the designer handbag counter. “Do you see her?”
“A woman buying a bag?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “She looks… familiar.”
Hannah squinted. “You think you know her?”
“Maybe.”
The woman turned slightly, reaching for her receipt.
Our eyes met.
She went pale.
Her hand tightened around the shopping bag like it was suddenly too heavy.
“Shailyn?”
My breath caught.
“Yes?” I said slowly.
She swallowed. “What… what are you doing here?”
Hannah’s grip tightened on my arm.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” she said, voice unsteady.
“What are you doing here?” I said, genuinely curious.
The mall noise faded around us.
Christmas music kept playing.
People walked past.
But she just stared at me, eyes wide, shaken.