The morning after wasn't awkward.
It should have been.
Hazel woke tangled in Michael's arms, her head on his chest, their legs hopelessly knotted beneath the blankets. Sunlight slipped through the curtains, dust motes floating lazily in the warmth of the room.
And for a second, she didn't move. Didn't tease him. Didn't sabotage the moment with a smart remark.
She just… listened.
To the steady beat of his heart. The way his fingers brushed absentmindedly over her waist, as though his body hadn't realized he was supposed to let go.
Then his phone rang.
Hazel groaned and buried her face in his chest. "No phones before coffee. It's a rule."
"It's work," Michael murmured, reaching for it.
But it wasn't work.
His expression changed the moment he saw the name.
Hazel sat up, her hair a mess of soft curls. "What is it?"
He hesitated, then handed her the phone.
Mom calling.
Hazel blinked. "Your mom? That's… rare."
"She's in town," he muttered. "She wants to come by. Said it's 'urgent.'"
Hazel's stomach flipped. The infamous Victoria Graze wasn't someone you casually invited over for tea. She was sharp-tongued, stone-faced, and carried judgment like a designer handbag.
Michael caught the flicker of nerves in Hazel's eyes and gently took her hand. "We can cancel. Say we're not home."
Hazel squared her shoulders. "No way. I'm not scared of your ice-queen mother."
"Hazel…"
"I'm not." She smirked. "Okay, maybe a little."
Two hours later, Hazel was regretting every brave word.
Victoria Graze arrived like a storm cloud in heels. Perfect hair. Perfect pearls. And a stare so icy Hazel was convinced the room temperature dropped by five degrees.
"Michael," Victoria said, kissing her son on the cheek. "You look tired."
"Good to see you too, Mother."
Her gaze slid to Hazel. "Hazel."
"Vicky."
Michael visibly choked on air.
Victoria arched a brow. "It's Victoria."
Hazel flashed a bright, fake smile. "Right. Just testing the waters. I read somewhere nicknames create intimacy."
"I read somewhere improper wives lower a man's status," Victoria shot back, settling into the pristine white couch like a queen claiming her throne.
Michael sighed. "Why are you here, Mother?"
"I heard about Ava's little visit," Victoria said smoothly. "And I thought perhaps it was time we discussed the future."
Hazel's smile faded. "Meaning?"
Victoria leaned forward, her manicured fingers steepled. "Meaning your marriage. The company. Heir expectations."
Hazel blinked. "Heir?"
Michael tensed beside her.
"You've been married three months, and I've yet to hear about future plans," Victoria continued. "The Graze legacy demands continuity."
Hazel opened her mouth, but Michael cut in. "We're not discussing this."
"Michael—"
"I said no."
The sharp finality in his tone made Hazel's heart skip.
Victoria's eyes narrowed. "You're letting this… this child influence you."
"I'm letting my wife decide what our future looks like," he snapped. "Whether that includes heirs, or dogs, or a house filled with paint stains and chaos, it's her choice too."
Hazel's throat tightened.
Victoria stood, smoothing her skirt. "You're making a mistake."
"No, Mother," Michael said, wrapping an arm protectively around Hazel. "I'm finally not."
The door closed behind Victoria with a soft, damning click.
Hazel exhaled. "Well… that was fun."
Michael turned to her, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not doing that sooner."
Hazel grinned, leaning into him. "I think I'm falling for you, Graze."
"Then fall," he murmured, and kissed her like no one was watching...