Ivy wanted to say, “But nothing happened last night, so why is there blood?”

She didn’t finish her sentence before it dawned on her. No wonder it hurt so much. It did happen, after all. Well, to be exact, it started and ended very quickly. As she replayed the night in her mind, she suddenly realized why Jamison had slipped into the bathroom afterwards.

Neither of them spoke. The awkwardness thickened the air between them, heat rising in the room like the sun had crept inside.

At last, Dr. Ludwig, unable to keep his composure, broke the silence. “Uh… why don’t you go freshen up? I’ll have the housekeeper come by and change the sheets.”

Ivy snapped out of her daze and shot him a look. “No!”

“What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer. Face flushed, she rushed to strip the sheets from the bed. “We can’t let the housekeeper see this!”

They’d been married for a while now—if the staff realized what had happened just last night, what would they think?

Jamison caught on and replied, calm as ever, “They won’t assume what you’re thinking. They’ll probably just figure you were on your period and accidentally stained the sheets.”

That made sense.

Ivy hesitated for a split second, then shook her head. “No, that won’t work either! The bathroom trash is spotless—they’re not stupid.”

This time, Jamison was at a loss for words. Even now, she was thinking things through so thoroughly.

Since he was just standing there, Ivy urged, “Come on, help me out! I’ll wash the sheets myself.”

Jamison didn’t see the point, but he didn’t argue. He came over to help.

But just as they yanked the sheets off, a knock sounded at the door—and before they could react, the door swung open. “Jamison?”

Both of them jumped and turned around. It was Adela Ludwig.

“Mom? What are you doing here?” Jamison blurted out.

“I came over with the housekeeper a while ago.” Adela had been worried about her youngest son’s injury and came by to check on him.

“You two really can sleep. It’s past eight.” She shot Jamison a knowing look, her tone laced with playful accusation. “You’ve changed a lot since you got married, Jamison. You never used to sleep in.”

The implication was clear: her son had been, ahem, busy last night.

Jamison pressed his lips together and said nothing. Ivy stood frozen, wrapped in the sheets, not having had time to react.

Adela turned to her, eyebrows raised. “Why are you carrying the sheets?”

“Oh, I got them dirty. I’m going to wash them,” Ivy answered, snapping back to herself and hurrying off toward the bathroom, bundled sheets in hand.

Adela frowned, catching on, and stepped into the room, lowering her voice to whisper to her son, “She’s on her period? You’re not trying for a baby yet?”

Jamison knew his mother was eager for grandchildren, but that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

He dodged the question. “Mom, you could have called before just coming in. What if you walked in on something you didn’t want to see?”

He’d never bothered locking his door when he lived alone. Even when Adela visited, she’d come and go as she pleased. But things were different now. He was married, there was a woman in his bed, and family needed to learn boundaries.

Adela looked a little sheepish under his rebuke, and tried to explain, “I came by with the housekeeper at seven. When I saw you weren’t up, I didn’t want to disturb you. I only came in now because I heard voices.”

Jamison let it drop and changed the subject. “So, what brings you here?”

“I wanted to check on your recovery. Getting you two over to the family estate for a meal is like herding cats,” Adela grumbled, moving in to lift her son’s pajama shirt.

Jamison quickly blocked her. “What are you doing?”

“Let me see if your wound has healed! What, you get married and suddenly I need permission to look at my own son? Like I haven’t seen it all before?” she retorted, undeterred by his resistance.

Reluctantly, Jamison let her lift his shirt. But before she could even get a look at his shoulder, she noticed the red marks raked across his back—clearly left by fingernails.

“Tsk. You two really have no sense. Your injury isn’t even healed and you’re already fooling around? What if she scratched your wound? And isn’t she on her period? Can’t you two just take a break? It’s not good for a woman’s health,” Adela scolded immediately.

Jamison, completely oblivious to what was on his back, twisted around. “What?”

She pointed at the marks. “Look at your back—she did that, right?”

He couldn’t see for himself, but her tone piqued his curiosity, so he headed for the bathroom.

Ivy had just scrubbed the bloodstain out of the sheet when he walked in, startling her. “What are you doing in here?”

Without answering, he slipped off his pajama shirt and turned his back to the mirror.

Ivy stared at the red welts on his back—some nearly breaking the skin—and frowned in confusion. “What happened to your back?”

Jamison lowered his voice. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Ivy stared, then realization dawned. “Did I do that last night?”

“It sure wasn’t me,” he said dryly.

She bit her lip, speechless. Maybe she’d done it unconsciously, too tense to notice.

“My mom saw,” Jamison told her, pulling his shirt back on.

“What?” Ivy froze, her cheeks blooming with embarrassment.

What would his mother think of her now?

Jamison found her reaction adorable and couldn’t help leaning in, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “My mom always thought you were the picture of poise and grace. Now, she’ll have to see you in a whole new light. Honey, I think you’ve made quite the impression.”

Ivy stood there, stunned, unable to utter a word.

Jamison grinned, even more enamored with her flustered look. Unable to resist, he dipped his head and kissed her.