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Married Before Midnight - Married Before Midnight by Sienna Quinn - Chapter 31
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Married Before Midnight
Chapter 31: The Art of Longing
Mason Lee was a man who understood the delicate art of manipulation. Behind the polished veneer of a successful construction contractor, he was a gambler drowning in debt, a man who had long ago traded his integrity for survival.
His carefully constructed façade had fooled Lucas and Hannah Carter, but now, he needed to reel in the real prize—Olivia. He had studied her, learned her rhythms—the way her fingers tapped against the counter when she was lost in thought, the soft crinkle of her nose when she laughed, the way her eyes softened whenever he walked into Sweet Beginnings. She was trusting, warm, and—most importantly—vulnerable. So, he disappeared. For three days, Mason made himself scarce. No casual drop-ins for coffee, no lingering conversations by the bakery’s display case. He knew absence would make the heart grow restless, and restlessness was the perfect breeding ground for longing. And it worked.
Olivia had tried to convince herself it was nothing. Maybe he was busy with work. Maybe he had traveled for a project. But by the second day, her thoughts spiraled. Had she said something wrong? Had he lost interest? Worse—had something happened to him? Her hands, usually steady as she kneaded dough, fumbled. She burned a batch of croissants, something she hadn’t done since she was a teenager learning under her mother’s watchful eye. “Liv, you okay?” Charlotte asked, nudging her sister’s shoulder as she wiped down the counter. Olivia blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the door for the fifth time that hour. “Yeah. Just… distracted.” Charlotte smirked. “Distracted, or waiting for a certain contractor to walk in?” Olivia’s cheeks warmed. “It’s not like that.” “Uh-huh.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You’ve been sighing like a heroine in one of those cheesy romance novels I have to read for class.” Olivia swatted her with a dish towel, but the teasing did little to ease the knot in her chest.
That night, after the bakery closed and the sisters had retreated to their rooms, Olivia found herself standing outside her mother’s bedroom door, her fingers hovering uncertainly. She hadn’t confided in Eleanor about Mason—not really.
But now, with this strange, gnawing ache inside her, she needed guidance. She knocked softly. Eleanor looked up from her book, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Olivia? Everything alright?” Olivia hesitated before sinking onto the edge of the bed. “I don’t know.” Eleanor set her book aside, sensing the weight in her daughter’s voice. “Talk to me.” And so, Olivia did. She told her mother about Mason—how he had been kind, how he made her laugh, how he listened in a way that made her feel truly seen. And then, she confessed the quiet fear that had settled in her stomach since his absence. “I don’t even know why I’m like this,” Olivia admitted, twisting the edge of the quilt between her fingers. “It’s only been a few days. It’s ridiculous.” Eleanor studied her daughter’s face, the way her brows furrowed with uncertainty. “Missing someone isn’t ridiculous, Liv. It just means they matter to you.” “But what if I’m being naive?” Olivia whispered. “What if he’s not who I think he is?” Eleanor sighed, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Olivia’s ear. “I won’t lie to you—I don’t know Mason well enough to say whether he’s good or bad for you. But I also won’t tell you to stay away from him just because I’m cautious.” She squeezed Olivia’s hand. “Your heart is strong, and so is your mind. Trust yourself.”
Olivia exhaled, leaning into her mother’s embrace. “What if I make the wrong choice?” “Then you’ll learn from it.” Eleanor pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But don’t let fear make the choice for you.” They talked late into the night, about love, about risk, about the delicate balance between caution and courage. Eventually, exhaustion won, and Olivia curled up beside her mother, the steady rhythm of Eleanor’s breathing lulling her to sleep. Outside, the moon cast silver light over Maplewood, oblivious to the schemes unfolding beneath its glow. Mason Lee, in his shabby attic room, smirked as he counted the days of his absence. Soon, he would return—just in time to play the hero again. And Olivia, wrapped in the safety of her mother’s wisdom, dreamed of dawn.