Chapter 5
I ’m at my office, buried in a contract, when my phone chimes with a notification.
Stafford Siblings + Mom
Cash has renamed the group chat “Parental Advisory”
Harrison: Cash, why did you change the name of the group chat?
Cash: Because “Stafford Siblings + Mom” was boring AF
Mom: Watch your language.
Presley: I’m impressed you’re up on your lingo, Mom.
Harrison: The last thing I need is to be in a meeting and “Parental Advisory” pops up on my phone.
Mom has renamed the group chat “Mom Want’s More Grandkids”
Dylan: Way to be subtle, Mom.
Harrison: Can I leave the group now?
Mom: No. How is everything going with Fallon? Is she settling in okay?
Harrison: She’s fine.
Mom: Have you asked her?
Harrison: Yes.
No.
But I’d rather not argue with my mom about it. Fallon is an adult. She can handle getting situated without me coddling her. Hell, she’s certainly had no problem taking over my apartment without consulting me or vocalizing her grievances. Much to my dismay, it’s safe to say she’s acclimating just fine.
Dylan: I still can’t believe you let her move in.
Presley: Right? He’s always been protective about his personal space.
Harrison: Mom didn’t exactly give me a choice.
Cash: Oh, please. You’ve never had trouble saying no in the past.
Presley: Like when you refused to participate in the first group chat. You had no problem telling us you weren’t interested.
She started a group chat for the whole family, but my dad didn’t join because he never checks his phone. I left after one too many interruptions during my meetings, and Dylan followed shortly after he was teased about his nonexistent dating life before he and Marlow got together.
However, my reprieve was short-lived. Last month, Mom started this group chat that includes me and my siblings. She didn’t give me a choice about joining this one, but thankfully, most of their energy goes into texting the main group with Everly, Marlow, and Jack, unless they’re feeling particularly nosy about my life choices.
Harrison: I’m in this chat, aren’t I?
Presley: Only because Mom said you and Dylan would break her heart if you didn’t join.
Dylan: We’re happy to be here, Mom.
Harrison: Suck-up.
Dylan: Says the guy who let a woman he doesn’t like move in with him because Mom said so.
Harrison: Says the guy who fell for his kid’s nanny.
Harrison: Remind me, Dylan. How’s the dog training going?
Dylan: Training is going well.
Harrison: Is Waffles still playing dead when you ask him to shake?
Mom: Harrison, be nice to your brother.
Cash: Yeah, Harrison, be nice.
Harrison: At least now we know why Cash is one of mom’s favorites.
Mom: I don’t have favorites.
Presley: Of course you do.
Dylan: You had a group chat that was literally called Mom’s Favorites that only included Cash & Presley.
Mom: Presley wouldn’t change the name.
Presley: I make no apologies. That’s what Harrison and Dylan get for leaving the chat.
Mom: We’re moving on to a new topic.
Mom: You’re all coming to visit for the holidays, right?
Dylan is the only one who lives in Aspen Grove, preferring to give his daughter, Lola, a sense of normalcy. Cash and Everly live in London, and my sister, Presley, and her boyfriend, Jack, live in New York City.
While my primary residence is also in New York City, I also have an apartment in Maine, where the old Stafford Holdings headquarters used to be. I usually take a private helicopter when I travel there, although I mainly work out of the New York office, which we officially made headquarters earlier this year. I also own two hundred acres outside of Aspen Grove, where I’ve had a cabin built. It doesn’t get much use since my parents always want me to stay with them when I visit. Still, it’s a solid investment and a retreat in our hometown that I can call my own.
Dylan: Lola’s looking forward to spending Christmas Day at your place. It’s all she’s been able to talk about the past week.
Presley: Jack & I wouldn’t miss it.
Cash: Everly & I will be there.
Mom: Harrison, you’re coming, right? You promised you’d spend the holidays in Aspen Grove.
Harrison: Yes, I’m coming.
Mom: Are you bringing Fallon?
Harrison: No.
Mom: Does she have plans?
Harrison: I haven’t asked.
Mom: Why not?
Harrison: Because she’s my employee, and I don’t spend holidays with employees.
Mom: That’s disappointing. Remember, no working while you’re here.
Dylan: That’s like telling him not to blink.
Dylan knows me well. I’ve already lined up multiple virtual meetings during the holidays and plan to handle business related to the upcoming mergers we have in the works. In corporate real estate, there’s no slow season, and downtime doesn’t exist in my world.
Cash: If Harrison doesn’t have to work, I’m not either.
Harrison: You never work during the holidays, Cash.
Cash: Touché.
I’m exhausted when I finally get to my apartment that night. My first meeting was at seven this morning, and I didn’t leave the office until nine, making me want nothing more than a good night’s sleep and silence.
When I step inside, the savory aroma of garlic and tomato greet me, underscored by a rich, meaty warmth hinting at something simmering on the stove for hours. The scent alone is enough to make my stomach growl, reminding me I haven’t eaten since Cabrina warmed up the salmon and sweet potato power bowl that Fallon prepared.
Sharing a space with Fallon might be unbearable, but even I can’t argue her talent in the kitchen. Every dish is executed to perfection, from the seasoning to the garnish. If only her personality were as palatable as her meals.
When I get to the living room, I stop dead in my tracks, my gaze sweeping over the unrecognizable space. It makes me second-guess if I’m in the right apartment.
Potted plants of all sizes are arranged in every corner, from a towering tree by the floor-to-ceiling windows to a cluster of herbs on a vintage rolling cart. Several white ceramic pots hang from an iron stand in the corner, each holding a variety of succulents. It’s like I’ve stepped into a jungle straight out of Jumanji , where the plants are taking over and fighting for every inch of space.
My leather sectional is now buried under a sea of mismatched throw pillows. A floral rug now covers a large portion of the room, and a coffee table has been placed in the middle, holding a large ceramic bowl overflowing with lemons. The once-empty walls now display London-inspired artwork and framed recipes, each scrawled in different handwriting.
Fallon was supposed to move all her stuff into the bedroom, not stage a hostile takeover of my living room.
This ends now.
The first place I look for her is the kitchen. Even when she’s off the clock, she’s usually there.
Sure enough, I find her perched on a barstool at the counter with her legs pulled up to her chest. She has her computer in front of her, and a photo editing app open with an image of a plated dish of hummus and vegetables on the screen.
A satisfied smirk tugs at my mouth when I notice she’s wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved sweater. Looks like my plan to crank down the heat is working better than expected.
The problem is, even in baggy clothes, I can’t ignore how stunning she is. Over the years, she’s only become more stunning, and it’s annoying that I still have a visceral reaction whenever I look at her.
Fallon casually tips her head in my direction, her brow furrowed. “Harrison, is everything okay? Your dinner is on the warming tray in the dining room, like you wanted.” She doesn’t wait for a response before shifting focus back to her computer.
It’s irritating that she’s acting so comfortable in my space. My frustration is only fueled by the reminder that the living room has been overrun by an army of plants and throw pillows.
“Mind telling me why my living room has been turned into a botanical garden?”
With a sigh, Fallon saves her work and closes her computer. “I made it cozier,” she explains without remorse. “The greenery brightens the room and helps with air quality too.”
“If you want fresh air, go outside. I can’t even see the television past that weird-looking plant.”
“It’s a fiddle-leaf fig tree,” she corrects me.
“What the hell is that?”
“A difficult plant to keep alive. It requires just the right amount of sunlight and attention and is very temperamental in nature,” she says with a pointed glare.
My fingers twitch at my sides as I release a sharp exhale. “Apologies, I thought I hired a chef, not an interior decorator. Oh wait, I did—when I moved in.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but whatever you paid wasn’t worth it. The apartment looked like a showroom—cold and impersonal. It’s much better now that I’ve added a few personal touches,” she says with a mischievoussmile. “It feels more like a home instead of a mausoleum, don’t you agree?”
I’m hyper-focused on the phrase a few changes. Our interpretation of the term doesn’t align, and the thought of what she considers a lot makes me shudder.
“If you dislike this place so much, why don’t we end this trial run right now?” The instant the words leave my mouth, I realize I’ve said the wrong thing.
Fallon stands up, the legs scraping loudly against the tile floor. “If you want me gone, just say so, and I’ll pack my bags.” She comes to stand in front of me. “However, if I stay, I won’t tolerate you using that as leverage whenever we don’t see eye to eye.” Her chest heaves, and the faint tremble in her voice betrays the emotion she’s trying to conceal.
I lower my gaze to the ground, conflicted. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. All I have to do is tell her to leave, and she’ll be out of my life for good. It should be simple… so why isn’t it?
It shouldn’t be this difficult to cut ties, yet here I am, second-guessing myself. And now my conscience has decided to chime in uninvited, reminding me that I’m acting like a total ass for no concrete reason.
Just when I think I’ve fortified my walls around my emotions, I glance over to find her steely blue gaze holding its usual intensity, but beneath the surface, there’s a trace of vulnerability.
Fallon has given up a lot to be here. She had to quit her part-time clients when she came to work for me full-time, and the catering gigs Cabrina mentioned that Fallon has lined up in the coming weeks won’t be enough to support her while she searches for another job.
On top of everything, she doesn’t have a place to stay. WithNew York’s competitive market, it might take a while for her to find a new place to live. I can’t shake the uneasy feeling when I picture her wandering the city, looking at sketchy apartments by herself.
I might be unyielding and hold my employees to high standards, but I take pride in looking out for them. Even those that grate on my nerves. Come to think of it, Fallon’s the only person who’s ever managed to get under my skin like this.
“Do any of your plants serve a purpose other than just taking up space?”
I wince at my botched attempt at acting civil.
Fallon nods. “I grow a lot of my own herbs to make sure there’s no cross-contamination from processing facilities.”
Fuck, I hadn’t thought about that.
Guilt settles in as I run a hand through my hair. Here I am acting like a jerk, and she’s going out of her way to make sure I don’t get sick again.
“I appreciate all the effort you’re putting in.”
She folds her arms across her chest, arching a brow. “And?”
“Don’t leave,” I state firmly. “I shouldn’t have been so angry about plants or hold the trial run over your head. I won’t do it again, I’m sorry.”
“Harrison Stafford apologizing?” Fallon feigns a gasp. “Is this real life?” She pinches her wrist, wincing.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Didn’t think you were capable of saying sorry for anything.” She lets out a hum, giving me a side-eye. “What’s the catch if I stay?”
“You’ll have to deal with my charmingly stubborn nature, but you’re no walk in the park either, so we’ll call it even,” I say, shooting her a side-eye of my own.
Fallon chuckles. “If I’m allowed to stay, does that mean the plants can, too?”
I sigh heavily. “Fine, but that’s where I draw the line.”
“We’ll see.” She smirks, sitting back down and opening her computer.
I’m way in over my head, and if I’m not careful, I might cross the line between indifference and actually giving a damn, forgetting why I’ve kept my distance from her in the first place.