The One After [SHAWN MENDES]

Chapter 66

My dad and I stepped into the beautifully decorated conference room at the cruise line's headquarters. The conglomerate owned much more than just the Queen of Canada, and it was obvious profits were good.

"Thank you for joining us today, Ms. Atwood," a tall gentleman said. "I'd like to introduce you to the president of the company."

An older woman stood up and reached for my hand across the table. "I'm Susan Patterson. Please let me express my sadness over what happened to you that night." She then turned my father and shook his hand. "Are you Ms. Atwood's lawyer?"

"No, just her father," he replied with a laugh.

"Have a seat," the man said. "I'm Otis McBride, legal counsel for Mrs. Patterson. This shouldn't take long." He opened his briefcase and removed a check and a document. "This is our settlement offer. If you choose to take it, you'll need to sign this paper which absolves the company from any further litigation or debt with regards to your tragic incident."

He pushed the check towards me and I picked it up, stifling a gasp at the figure. I showed it to my dad and he let out a choked grunt when he saw it was for three hundred thousand dollars. Even after taxes, I'd have a lot of money.

"Is that satisfactory?" Mrs. Patterson asked.

I looked at my dad and we communicated with our eyes. "Yes," I told her. "I accept the offer."

Twenty minutes later, my father and I were on our way to the bank so I could deposit the substantial check.

"Holy moly," he said. "If they were willing to give you that without batting an eye, you probably could have sued for two to three times that amount."

"Maybe, but that's not me. I honestly feel guilty for taking this much!"

"You were hurt on their property, and I'm sure a good lawyer could argue that the nature of your employment put you in harm's way."

"I guess. The whole situation is weird and I want to put it behind me."

He turned into the bank parking lot. "Maybe they are suing your attacker for damaging the ship's reputation. Either way, you shouldn't feel bad about any of this. You are the victim, honey!"

"I know," I said softly.

We met with one of the higher level bank managers who suggested I split my money between several different types of accounts and investments after setting some aside for taxes. I insisted that at least twenty-five thousand be accessible because I wanted to take the girls to Vegas like we'd discussed, and I wanted some money to splurge on myself. I'd already decided I wasn't going to plan the trip around Shawn's concert because recreating that long weekend was impossible so there was no point to even try.

When the banking was done, Dad and I grabbed lunch at a burger place, and then he went to the bakery. I had an appointment with Doctor Morris, which was convenient since it meant I only had to take one day off from work. Before meeting with the doctor, I was given both an MRI and CT scan. That process took almost two hours and even though both were painless, it was exhausting.

"You look great, Lucy," she said after checking my vitals. "How are the headaches?"

"I get them occasionally, but they aren't bad. I take Advil and I'm fine."

"Any motor impairment? Can you write like you used to?"

"No issues at all," I told her.

"What about memory loss? You were unconscious for several minutes before you were revived by Mr. Mendes, and that can sometimes mean lingering problems."

"I still don't remember my encounter with Liam and being shoved into the lake, but everything else from that night is vivid in my memory."

"Excellent. And the dream...has it faded like I said it could?" she asked.

"Not really. It still feels like it happened. I know it didn't, of course."

"If it troubles you, my recommendation for therapy still stands. Your scar looks healthy and the CT shows that the fracture is almost completely healed. The MRI confirmed that there's no bleeding in your brain. I'd like to see you again in six months for another CT scan, but you're rid of me until then," Doctor Morris said with a smile.

I arrived back at home around five that night and collapsed in my bed. Waking up hours later, I checked my phone and saw that Shawn sent me a couple texts before his Washington, DC show. He only had a few more tour stops and then he'd be back in Toronto. I wondered if he was celebrating his upcoming birthday in his home city or if he was going to have a big party in New York.

There was something that had been nagging at me like an itch I couldn't scratch for weeks. How was I able to dream things in such detail that I didn't necessarily know about? I grabbed my journal and made a list of items to look up, and then I sat on my computer googling for over an hour.

1. Shawn's birthday at 1Hotel

This hadn't happened yet, but I was curious to see what a search gave me. I came across photos of his twenty-first birthday party on Instagram, which had been held at the exact same location. My theory was that I'd seen these pics before on the internet, but hadn't really thought much of them since I wasn't a big fan of his back then. Camila was at the party, which perhaps explained why she came up at the dream-version. This info was obviously in my subconscious, and it had surfaced along with other tiny details that appeared in my dream. I'd met quite a few of his friends on the cruise, which explained why they were there and later at his concerts.

2. Shawn's family

His parents and sister looked nothing like they had in my dream. My mind created them from scratch, and they were essentially vague side characters who popped into the dream very rarely.

3. Shawn's condo

I dug deeper for images of his condo and found it was similar to what I'd seen my dream but not exact. The floor plan was completely different, though he did have a large enviable kitchen. Most of our encounters took place at my apartment, which was kind of odd when you thought about it. Why wouldn't we have spent more time at his home since it was so nice? Clearly my brain made my place the setting because it knew what it looked like.

4. Las Vegas

I googled the hotel rooms at Paris and discovered they had completely different color schemes than what I'd experienced. This proved that my dream drew from what I knew and filled the rest in with my imagination. The girls and I once investigated going to Vegas several years ago but realized we couldn't afford it, so it was no coincidence that the things from my dream were all places we'd looked at online.

I found other dream-reality discrepancies, for example some members of his team, like his band, weren't the same. His bodyguard was a big guy just like in my dream, but that's where the similarity stopped.

"I guess this proves Briya's alternate universe theory wrong," I muttered as I wrapped up my research. There were still many unexplainable details, but I chalked them up to being coincidences.

Before closing up my computer, I went on Amazon and ordered a pour-over coffee maker. I didn't get a grinder, though I could now afford one, because I didn't mind buying my beans ready to use. I'd been missing the delicious coffee from my dreams and hoped that the the real deal was just as good. Maybe I needed to consider making an appointment with my OB/GYN to go on the pill, since that had also been a positive change for me. Even if the coma-dream wasn't real, there were lessons to be learned from it.