Brendan’s fever had kicked up brain fog. He started wrapping his arms around Deirdre’s waist while an easy, mirthful smile surfaced on his face. He was free and no longer had to pretend to be a b*stard in a suit.

“I’m hungry, Deirdre.” He cooed between panting. “Can you make me another veggie spaghetti, like the last time you made me? It was so good! I miss it now.”

Deirdre’s face turned white. What did he mean by ‘the last time?' Since when had she ever made him something like that? The last time she did was two years ago! Why would Brendan suddenly care about it now?

And the way he addressed her, the tone he was using, why did it feel so familiar?

Deirdre felt her entire frame shaking. Her eyes seemed to be trembling in their sockets. The figure of a man surfaced in her mind against her deepest wishes…

But that was impossible. That was ludicrous! Absurd!

She bit her lips to stay calm. No, whatever she was thinking was absurd, outlandish, and preposterous. And yet, she could no