Chapter 202

Brandon's POV

Sunlight streamed through the partially opened curtains as I reviewed quarterly reports on my laptop. June was still asleep on the far side of the bed, curled up in a nest of blankets, looking more peaceful than I’d seen her in weeks. I closed my computer, setting it aside to watch her for a moment, enjoying the rare stillness of the afternoon.

She finally stirred, stretching before sitting up groggily. Her eyes widened as they landed on the digital clock on the bedside table.

"One o'clock?" Her voice rose in a frantic squeak. "Why didn't you wake me? I’ve slept half the day away!"

I shrugged, leaning over to offer her a glass of water. "You were exhausted. You needed the rest more than the morning hours."

June took a sip, but as she moved to pull back the covers, she suddenly froze. She caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror across the room—her hair was a mess, and the faint, rosy color on her neck and shoulders told the story of how late we’d stayed up talking and... everything else.

"Oh my god," she groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Summer, you idiot. When will you ever learn to keep track of time?"

I slipped out of the room with a quiet chuckle while she continued her self-admonishment, heading downstairs to my makeshift office in the living room. I heard the soft patter of her footsteps on the stairs minutes later.

June stood at the landing, wearing one of my white button-downs that hung down to her mid-thighs. Her eyes held a hint of a playful accusation, and she was gripping the banister as if her balance hadn't quite returned to her yet.

"Finally up for real?" I asked, setting aside my work.

She didn't answer immediately, but the way she leaned against the railing spoke volumes about her lingering fatigue. I smiled and beckoned to her. "Come here."

"No," she declared, crossing her arms over the oversized shirt. "And tonight, you're banished. You're sleeping in the guest room."

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. "Oh? What exactly did I do to deserve exile?"

"I’m not discussing it. You're just not allowed in our bedroom tonight. I need actual sleep!"

I leaned back, a teasing glint in my eyes. "So the bedroom is off-limits? Does that mean the study is fair game? The kitchen? Or maybe right here in the living room? The balcony has a nice view, too."

June's cheeks turned a deep, vibrant red. "You—you’re shameless! How can you say that with a straight face?"

"How am I shameless? We're married, June. This is normal conversation between a husband and wife. Are you actually embarrassed?"

"I never realized you were this relentless!" she sputtered, though she couldn't quite hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

I crossed the room, taking her hands in mine. They were ice cold. "Your hands are freezing," I noted, rubbing them between my palms to generate heat. "It's winter—you need to keep warm, even when you're indoors."

June didn't pull away; instead, she burrowed her fingers deeper into my hands. "That's better."

I reached out and lightly traced the tip of her nose. "Hungry?"

She nodded vigorously. "Starving. I feel like I haven't eaten in years."

"I made congee earlier," I told her. "You barely touched your dinner at the Manhattan Club last night. I'll go heat it up for you."

June caught my arm as I started to move. "No, I can get it myself. You should get back to your reports. I know how busy the Stark Group is right now."

"It can wait," I assured her, leading her toward the kitchen. "Nothing's more important than making sure you're taken care of. Besides, I haven't eaten either."

Her eyes widened. "You haven't eaten? But it's so late! Brandon, next time if I’m not up, just eat without me. You’ll get a stomach ache."

"I preferred to wait for you," I said simply.

In the dining room, June's eyes lit up at the spread—not just the steaming congee, but several small, animal-shaped bread rolls arranged on a wooden board.

"Brandon, did you make all this?" she asked, picking up a roll that vaguely resembled a bear.

"No," I said flatly, keeping my expression neutral.

She bit into it and grinned. "Don't lie. If these were store-bought, they wouldn't look this... unique."

"Unique?" I repeated, an eyebrow raised.

"No, no!" she backpedaled, laughing. "They're charming! They look way better than those perfect, factory-made ones. These have character!"

"Just eat," I said, amused by her transparent attempt to soothe my culinary ego.

"Mmm!" she hummed after taking a bite. "This is actually incredible. Thank you, Brandon."

"One home-cooked meal and I've successfully bought your forgiveness," I teased as she reached for a second roll.

June barely slowed down, clearly making up for the missed breakfast. Once she finally finished, she looked much more like herself.

"Hey, do you have to go into the office today?" she asked.

"Probably not. Did you want to go somewhere?"

She shook her head quickly. "No way. I'm staying right here. I'm far too tired for the outside world."

"Full?" I asked as she set her spoon down.

June nodded. "Very."

I stood and gathered the bowls. "You should take a short walk in the garden. The fresh air will help your digestion."

"Let me help you with the dishes first," she offered.

"Go for your walk. I'll join you in a few minutes."

"If you insist." June smiled softly, her eyes warm. "Brandon, you're so good to me."

I tapped her forehead lightly. "Go on."

As I rinsed the dishes, I glanced out the window to see June strolling through the garden. Despite the winter chill, the sun cast her in a golden glow as she meandered between the dormant flower beds. She turned back toward the house and waved enthusiastically.

"Brandon! The sun's actually warm! Come outside!"

"I'll be right there!" I called back. "Just need to take a quick call!"

My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Ethan Kennedy.

"Ethan," I answered, leaning against the counter.

"Got a minute?" His voice was characteristically calm, but there was an underlying seriousness.

"Yes. What is it?"

"I've brought someone with me who wants to see Meave."

I frowned, immediately concerned. My uncle Gavin's wife, Meave, had been in poor health for years, and Gavin had become increasingly protective. "She hasn't been well lately. Gavin hasn't let her receive visitors in ages unless it's absolutely necessary. I don't think he'll agree to a random meeting."

"It is necessary," Ethan replied firmly. "I wouldn't ask if it weren't."

"Who is this person?"

"Don't worry," Ethan assured me. "They won't upset her. In fact, I think Meave would be very happy to see her."

Her. That piqued my interest. "All right. I'll speak to Meave first and see how she’s feeling today."

As I ended the call, I noticed June standing in the doorway, a look of concern on her face. "What's wrong? Is it trouble at the company?"

"No, nothing like that. It's Ethan."

"Is he okay? He seemed fine at the club last night."

"He's fine. He just has a request that involves my aunt." I noticed her shifting slightly, looking a bit pale. "Feeling okay? You're not getting a stomach ache, are you?"

"How did you know?" she sighed.

"I could tell. You ate too much too quickly. You need to be more careful. No more binge eating just because you're hungry."

"Yes, yes, doctor," she joked. "But it's your fault for being such a good cook. Now, don't change the subject—who does Ethan want to see? Is it someone important?"

"It sounds like it," I said, already dialing my aunt's private line.

"Aunt Meave, it's Brandon."

"Brandon?" Her voice sounded thin but surprised. "Is everything all right?"

"I’m fine. I was just calling to check on you. It's been a while since we've caught up."

"I have all the time in the world these days, confined to this house," she replied with a dry wit. "But what is this call really about? You usually have a reason."

"I'd like to bring someone over," I said, glancing at June. "There's someone I think you should meet."

"Someone I should meet? Well, that sounds intriguing. It must be someone quite special."

"They are," I confirmed.

"Well, I've been cooped up far too long anyway," Meave said, her voice sounding a bit more spirited. "When were you thinking?"

"Today, if possible. I'll send a car for you, and we can all have dinner together here."