Chapter 54 Putting Away Mom's Photo
Moments later, Nathan emerged from the guest room, his stoic composure betrayed entirely by the stark smear of crushed rose lipstick directly on his cheekbone.
He cleared his throat, avoiding his son's entirely judgmental stare. "I'm... going to see what's in the fridge. It's late, and I haven't had time to grocery shop, so we'll just have to throw something quick together."
"Whatever! Just go!" Mason groaned, aggressively rolling his eyes at the ceiling.
Nathan practically fled into the kitchen.
A second later, Chloe sauntered out of her new room. Her skin was flushed, her lips slightly swollen, radiating the absolute, intoxicating smugness of a woman who had just thoroughly conquered her target. She threw herself onto the plush living room sofa, kicking her legs up, and smiled at the scowling teenager.
"How about we just order takeout? Fancy a pizza?" she offered lazily.
Mason shot her a lethal, glacial glare. "No way. I want my dad's cooking."
"Suit yourself. I'll order for me, then." Completely unbothered by his teenage hostility, Chloe cheerfully pulled out her phone and opened a delivery app.
"Hey. Put that away. No takeout," Mason barked, his voice dropping into a rigid, commanding tone that sounded terrifyingly identical to Nathan's.
Chloe paused, raising an eyebrow. "Why? You just said you aren't eating it, so why can't I?"
Mason’s face contorted with fierce, unapologetic displeasure. "If you order a greasy pizza right now, what happens to the dinner my dad is making? He is in there working hard to cook for you. If you refuse to eat it, how do you think that's going to make him feel?"
Chloe blinked, thoroughly surprised. She slowly lowered her phone, tucking it back into her pocket. "You know what? You actually have a point."
She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, offering him a sweet, genuinely affectionate smile. "Hey, Mason... you're incredibly protective of your dad, aren't you?"
"Obviously!" Mason snapped, glaring at her like a guard dog. "And I'm warning you right now—if you are just here to toy with my dad's feelings, I will absolutely not let you get away with it!"
Chloe didn't flinch. She just sat there, smiling softly at him.
Mason’s jaw tightened. "Did you hear me?!"
"Loud and clear!" Chloe laughed, a bright, melodic sound. "Don't worry, kid. I swear on my life, I will never hurt him."
"You'd better keep your word," Mason muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and adopting a fiercely adult posture. "As long as you treat my dad right, I won't cause any trouble for you."
Chloe’s heart completely melted. She burst out laughing, reaching over to affectionately ruffle his messy hair. "Got it."
The absolute second her palm grazed his head, Mason violently swatted her hand away with a sharp smack.
A dark, furious red instantly flooded his cheeks, his teenage embarrassment instantly morphing into defensive anger. "Do not touch me."
With that, he grabbed his heavy backpack, stood up, and stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Chloe looked down at the red mark on the back of her hand, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
This little brother of mine, she thought, her heart swelling. Raised entirely by Nathan, and he grew up to have his exact same fiercely protective, absolutely adorable temper.
Humming a soft tune under her breath, Chloe pushed off the sofa and swayed her way toward the kitchen.
Nathan had discarded his heavy suit jacket. Clad only in a crisp white pinstriped shirt and tailored khaki pants, he stood at the massive industrial stove. He wore no apron. His sleeves were pushed past his elbows, revealing his elegantly corded forearms and the subtle shift of muscle as he worked.
One hand casually held a wooden spatula, while the other expertly tossed a heavy iron skillet, sautéing a rich, vibrant pasta. The intense, mouth-watering aroma of browned meat, caramelized onions, and roasted peppers filled the air, the rising white steam immediately sucked away by the humming overhead vent.
He tossed the skillet again, his movements brutally efficient and fluid. As he lowered his head, a single, dark strand of hair fell across his forehead, partially obscuring his face.
Behind the lenses of his glasses, his deep-set eyes were intensely focused, his long lashes casting faint shadows on his sharp cheekbones.
The domestic, profoundly sensual sight of him completely stole the breath from Chloe’s lungs.
Unable to resist, she closed the distance, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist from behind and pressing her cheek directly between his shoulder blades.
Nathan didn't flinch. He seemed to have entirely anticipated her ambush. He continued to methodically stir the pasta, but a deep, helpless smile broke across his face, impossible to hide.
Down the hall, the door clicked open. Mason quietly slipped back out, catching the silent, impossibly intimate scene in the kitchen.
The teenager’s rigid posture finally softened. A faint, reluctant smile touched his lips.
Alright, Mason thought. As long as Dad is this happy... even if this woman is a total fraud, I'll be nice to her. I just hope she can keep up the act for a little while longer.
Mason quietly retreated into his room, shutting the door until it clicked. He walked over to his desk, unlocked the bottom drawer, and pulled out a worn, severely faded photograph.
It was the only surviving picture of his parents. The image was yellowed and blurred with age, but the outline of his mother's face was still visible.
She had been a deeply pretty woman. And she bore a terrifying, unmistakable resemblance to the beautiful young woman currently clinging to Nathan in the kitchen.
But his mother hadn't been nearly as fortunate as this new woman.
Mason stared at the photograph for a long, heavy minute. Then, he deliberately slipped it between the dense pages of a heavy textbook, shoving it into the absolute darkest, deepest corner of his drawer.
He had to be ruthlessly careful. This new woman could never find out that she bore a passing resemblance to Nathan's tragic past.
If she finds out she looks like Mom, she might think Dad is just using her as a replacement, Mason reasoned. She’ll throw a massive fit. And a guy as emotionally damaged and quiet as Dad would have absolutely no idea how to defend himself. She would break his heart.
It was safer to just bury the past completely.
A sharp twinge of guilt twisted in Mason's gut—this meant there might never be a single photo or trace of his real mother allowed in this house ever again. But as long as Nathan finally got to smile, it was a sacrifice Mason was entirely willing to make.
The fourteen-year-old swallowed his sadness, a strange, terrifying spark of hope for this new, peaceful life taking root in his chest. He desperately wanted this house to stay this quiet and warm forever.
"Mason! Dinner's ready," Nathan’s steady voice called down the hall.
"Coming!" Mason quickly shoved the drawer key into his ceramic piggy bank and hurried out.
The steaming pasta was already plated on the dining table. "There wasn't much to work with in the fridge," Nathan apologized softly as he set down the water glasses. "We're keeping it simple tonight."
"Looks great," Mason grunted, entirely uncaring about the menu. He grabbed his fork and immediately dug in.
Chloe picked up her own fork, enthusiastically twisting a large bite of the rich, oily meat and pasta.
She put it in her mouth.
The absolute second the heavy grease hit the back of her throat, her stomach violently rebelled. A wave of intense, suffocating nausea crashed over her.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, dropping her fork with a clatter as she violently gagged. She patted her chest aggressively, desperately trying to force down the burning stomach acid rising in her throat, her eyes instantly watering with tears.
"Chloe! What's wrong?!" Nathan panicked, his chair scraping loudly against the hardwood as he immediately rushed to her side.
"Is this meat bad? Has it been sitting in the fridge too long?" Chloe gasped, coughing. "It tastes metallic."
"No way! It tastes perfectly fine!" Mason aggressively defended his father's honor, glaring at her across the table. "God, you are such a high-maintenance hassle!"
Seeing the sheer, unadulterated panic radiating from Nathan's pale face, Chloe hurriedly waved her hand to reassure him. "No, no, it's not the food, Nathan. It's probably just my body still physically adjusting to the time jump. Lately, absolutely everything I try to eat makes me feel violently queasy."
Nathan completely froze.
He remained dead silent, his dark eyes locked onto her pale, sweating face. The air in the dining room suddenly went dangerously thin.
"Chloe..." Nathan asked, his voice dropping to a fragile, terrified whisper. "You aren't... you aren't pregnant, are you?"
Chloe’s eyes blew wide open.
A violent jolt of realization hit her like a freight train.
Oh my god. In the weeks leading up to the accident that threw her twenty-three years into the future, she and Nathan had been completely insatiable. They had been sleeping together constantly, without a single thought for consequences. Biologically, to her body, that was barely a month ago. It was entirely possible.
Across the table, Mason inhaled a massive bite of pasta and immediately began violently choking.
He sat there, unable to swallow or spit it out, staring dumbfounded at Chloe's horrified expression.
What the hell?! Mason's mind screamed in sheer, absolute outrage. Nathan cannot possibly be about to get trapped raising some other guy's ready-made bastard!
This is completely unacceptable! I absolutely refuse to approve this marriage!
Thirty minutes later, Chloe sat on the edge of the master bathroom tub, staring down at the little white plastic wand Nathan had just sprinted to the downstairs pharmacy to buy. Her face was flushed a brilliant, panicked red.
The absolute last time she had held one of these in her hand was during the summer break of her junior year of college.
She and a twenty-year-old Nathan had just returned from their very first road trip together, and her period was over four weeks late. She had been absolutely terrified. She hadn't even graduated yet. What the hell was she going to do if she was having his baby?
That humid summer night, she had dragged Nathan out into her parents' backyard. Standing hidden in the dark shadows of the massive sugar maple tree, she had looked up at him, her hands violently shaking.
"Nathan... what are we going to do? Oh my god," she had sobbed.
"What's wrong? Chloe, look at me," Nathan had panicked, seeing her completely devastated expression. He had desperately grabbed her arms. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"I..." Chloe had choked on a sob, too humiliated to look him in the eye. "This month... my period hasn't come."
Nathan, who had barely been twenty years old at the time, had completely frozen.
His brilliant, analytical brain had instantly connected the dots. His face had flushed a brutal, burning red, his voice dropping to a stammering, terrified whisper. "Are... are you... pregnant?"
"I don't know!" Chloe had violently stamped her foot in the dirt, entirely directing her terror into irrational rage. "This is all your fault! We were supposed to go hiking and see the sights! But we didn't go anywhere! We just stayed locked in that goddamn hotel room all day!"
"I... I..." Nathan had stammered, completely flustered and feeling incredibly, desperately wronged.
He hadn't planned on taking her virginity on that trip. To prove what a respectful gentleman he was, he had specifically, deliberately booked a room with two separate beds.