Page 33 of Justice

"Much better, thanks. Here, let's use the guest room downstairs. Save you from hauling that up the stairs," I offer, leading her down the hall.

As we enter, Meadow's eyes widen appreciatively. "Wow, your place is gorgeous," she comments, taking in the decor. I perch on the bed's edge while Christopher hovers nearby, watchful.

Meadow sets down her case, popping it open to reveal an impressive array of medical equipment. "You're looking so much better already," she observes, her tone pleased.

"I feel it," I admit, relief evident in my voice.

She beams. "I'm so glad to hear that."

Meadow runs through a thorough checkup, asking about symptoms, pain, and any concerns I have. Her professionalism is reassuring.

"Everything's looking great," she concludes. "Did you manage to get all your prescriptions filled?"

"Yep, all set," I confirm. Then, feeling my cheeks heat up, I blurt out, "Quick question. Is sex okay?"

Christopher barely stifles a laugh, and I feel my face burning. Meadow, to her credit, maintains her composure, though her eyes twinkle with amusement.

"Sex is absolutely fine," she assures me, her tone matter-of-fact.

Christopher throws me a wink, and I have to look away to keep from combusting on the spot.

"I'll be back to check on you in a couple of days," Meadow says, packing up. "Remember, call me if you need anything at all."

As we exit the bedroom, the mouthwatering aroma of Mason's cooking hits us full force. My stomach growls loudly in response. Christopher and I hang back, watching as Mason emerges from the kitchen like a man on a mission.

Meadow's eyes go wide as saucers as Mason approaches, his presence filling the room. "Hi, Meadow," he rumbles, his voice low and smooth as whiskey.

The effect on Meadow is immediate. Her hands flutter nervously to her hips, smoothing imaginary wrinkles as she visibly tries to collect herself. "Oh! Hi," she manages, her voice a mix of surprise and something that sounds suspiciously like interest.

Christopher pulls me close, his arm snug around my waist as we shamelessly eavesdrop on the unfolding scene. I can't help but grin, feeling like we're watching our favorite soap opera live.

Meadow glances back at us, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and amusement. I give her a reassuring smile and a subtle thumbs-up.Go get 'em, girl.

"Are you single?" Mason's voice is low and intense, his eyes locked on Meadow like she's the only person in the room.

Meadow's eyebrow arches, her father's feisty spirit shining through. "Why do you want to know?"

Mason's lips curl into a smirk. "Because I want you," he states bluntly. "And this dinner? It's just the start. I'm not stopping until you say yes."

Meadow's jaw drops, her face flushing bright red. For a moment, she's speechless, but then a small, intrigued smile plays on her lips.

Mason takes her hand, leading her toward the dining room. Meadow throws a mischievous glance over her shoulder at me.Mason turns back to us. "Your dinner's on the coffee table. The dining room's off-limits."

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek around the corner. The room's bathed in soft candlelight, with a beautifully set table for two.

"You did all this for me?" Meadow asks, clearly impressed.

"Let's eat," Mason says, guiding her to the table. As they disappear from view, I hear Meadow ask, "What if I'd said no?"

"I'd have kept asking," Mason replies matter-of-factly.

I bite back a laugh, mentally placing bets on how this date will unfold. Mason's cooking skills might just seal the deal.

We grab our plates and retreat to our bedroom, giving the lovebirds some space. Plus, I'm craving some alone time with Christopher.

The food looks amazing, some kind of chicken pasta dish with a side of garlic bread. Christopher grabs a beer while I stick to water. He fusses with my pillows, propping me up comfortably.

"What do you want to watch?" he asks, remote in hand.

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