Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Nick returned to his old habit of staying late and coming in early, throwing himself into work with the kind of relentless focus that had once been second nature. It was safer this way—numbers, reports, negotiations. Things he could control. Things that didn’t ask anything of him beyond results. Yet, no matter how many contracts he approved or emails he answered, his mind kept drifting elsewhere.
To Taylor. To the way she’d smiled at him at the party, so effortlessly engaging with the people who mattered to his career. To the way she’d pressed against him on the dance floor, sending heat searing through his veins. To the way she’d walked away at her doorstep, leaving him standing there with a need he couldn’t explain.
He scowled at the stack of reports. Work was supposed to keep his mind occupied. So why was it failing now?
The door swung open, and Nick groaned. “Miss Dietrich, I thought I told you—” He stopped mid-sentence, his posture snapping straight. “Mother. What a surprise.”
Sylvia Lanagan Childs stood before him, poised as always, her polished veneer only slightly softened by the warm smile she offered. The last time he’d seen her had been…when? Thanksgiving? No, before that. He hadn’t even made it home for the holidays.
“What, no kiss?” she teased lightly, but there was a familiar wariness in her eyes. A hesitation he knew all too well.
Nick rose, rounding the desk with the same forced politeness he always had with her. He brushed a quick kiss against her cheek, the faint scent of lavender reaching him. For a moment, it triggered an old memory—her tucking him into bed as a boy, that same floral scent lingering in the air. It had been a long time since she’d been that mother.
“Have a seat.” He gestured toward the chair across from his desk.
Even though they lived in the same town, it had been nearly a year since they’d last seen each other. He studied her now, noticing the subtle signs of aging she’d once fought so hard to keep at bay—the faint creases around her mouth, the strands of gray tucked into her auburn hair.
“You look tired,” she said, her voice softer now.
“Not tired. Just busy.” He gestured to the reports, using them as a shield between them.
She exhaled lightly, as if she had expected that answer. “I won’t keep you long.” She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope, setting it carefully on the desk. “I’m sorry I missed your engagement party. Charlie and I were in Switzerland, and the invitation must have come while we were away.”
Nick stared at the envelope, irritation flashing through him. Claire must have invited her against his wishes. He had planned to keep her out of this part of his life—not out of cruelty, but because it was easier that way. Less complicated.
“You look surprised,” Sylvia observed, tilting her head slightly. “Don’t tell me I wasn’t supposed to be invited?”
“Of course you were.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He hadn’t considered how much it would hurt her to be left out. He pushed the thought away. “I didn’t realize you were out of the country.”
Her lips pressed together, and something flickered in her gaze—hurt, perhaps, though she quickly masked it. She nudged the envelope toward him. “Please accept my congratulations. I hope you and Taylor will be very happy.”
Nick picked it up, his chest tightening. He had assumed it was money. It always had been, hadn’t it? The one currency she understood. The one way she had tried to mend the damage between them.
“We don’t need your money,” he said, his voice harsher than he intended.
“There’s no money in the envelope,” she replied, her voice quiet but firm. “Only love and good wishes.”
A pang of guilt hit him square in the chest. He looked up at her, and for the first time in a long while, he saw the woman she used to be—the one who had once tried to hold their family together before it all unraveled. The one who had fought for his father’s attention as hard as Nick had, only to lose in the end.
She rose abruptly, smoothing her skirt with the elegance she always carried. Her expression was composed, but he could see the tightness in her shoulders, the way she blinked a little too rapidly. “I’ll leave you to your work.”
The words barely registered before another voice broke the silence.
“I promise I won’t stay but a minute—” Taylor’s voice carried into the room as she walked in, only to stop short. Her eyes widened when she saw Sylvia, and something in Nick’s chest clenched at the contrast between them—his mother, distant and guarded; Taylor, warm and open.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said quickly, glancing between them. “No one was at the front desk. I didn’t realize you had company.”
Nick exhaled, forcing himself to shake off the lingering emotions. “Miss Dietrich had some errands to run.” He rounded the desk and placed a hand lightly on Taylor’s waist, brushing a welcoming kiss against her cheek. “Taylor, I’d like you to meet my mother, Sylvia Childs. Mother, my fiancée, Taylor Rollins.”
Sylvia stood, a polite smile settling over her lips, but Nick caught the flicker of wariness. He cursed himself for it. She’d probably assumed he would marry someone like Claire—wealthy, connected, polished in the way she had always approved of. But Taylor…Taylor was something else entirely.
To his surprise, Taylor’s face lit up with delight, her warmth cutting through the tension. “Mrs. Childs, what a pleasure to finally meet you. I’d hoped to see you at the engagement party. Nick and I were so disappointed you couldn’t make it.”
Something in Sylvia’s face softened, just a little. “That’s why I stopped by. My husband and I were out of town and didn’t get the invitation until we returned.” She gestured toward the envelope still unopened on the desk. “I dropped by with a card. I didn’t have time to pick up any?—”
“Don’t you worry about that.” Taylor closed the distance between them and—without hesitation—gave Sylvia a gentle hug. “Your good wishes are all we need.”
Nick felt something twist inside him. He’d never seen his mother look so startled.
When Taylor pulled away, Sylvia blinked rapidly, her composure wavering for just a second.
“You’re a lucky man, Nick,” she said, shifting her gaze back to him. “You take good care of her.”
The unexpected approval made his throat tighten. He had spent years believing nothing he did would ever be enough for her. That no matter how much he achieved, it would never quite make up for what she thought she lost.
“I will,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.
Sylvia turned back to Taylor, something like genuine fondness in her eyes. “And, Taylor, you make him happy.”
Taylor didn’t hesitate. She met Sylvia’s gaze with a quiet sincerity that even Nick wasn’t expecting. “I’ll do my best.”
For a moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them. A moment Nick couldn’t quite define.
Then Sylvia gathered her purse, blinking rapidly again. “Congratulations. I wish you both only the best.”
And just like that, she was gone.
The door closed softly behind her, leaving a silence in its wake.
Taylor sank into the chair Sylvia had vacated, exhaling slowly. “Your mother seems like a nice woman. I’m glad I finally got to meet her.”
Nick sat down heavily, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He felt…drained. “Yeah.”
His fingers toyed with the envelope before pushing it toward Taylor. “Open it if you want.”
She didn’t hesitate. Her voice was soft as she read Sylvia’s handwritten note. “Make sure that the choices you make, the priorities you set as a couple, are the ones that will give you both the true happiness you deserve.”
Nick stared at the words, a strange tightness in his chest. His mother had spent her life choosing wrong. His father had chosen wrong.
Was he?
That’s so sweet.” Taylor smiled and lowered the paper. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that saying before.”
“It was one of her favorites.”
“Does she have any others?” Taylor lifted a brow.
You love that company more than you love me. More than you love Nick.
It wasn’t a saying as much as a refrain heard over and over. Even now, five years after his father’s death, he still railed against the thought.
After all, wasn’t it him his father had asked to see while on his deathbed? Hadn’t Nick been the one to hold his father’s hand while his life slipped away? And hadn’t he been the one his father had entrusted with his most valuable possession—the company?
Why did the thought suddenly make him sad?
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, none that I remember.”
Her gaze narrowed, and she studied him thoughtfully but didn’t comment. Instead, she picked up her bag and rose. “You’re positive you can’t golf tomorrow?”
Taylor sighed but nodded, accepting his excuse without pushing. “Okay. I understand. Maybe another time.”
Nick watched her carefully. No argument, no teasing persuasion—just acceptance. For some reason, that bothered him more than if she’d tried to convince him otherwise. He was getting used to their time together, to her effortless way of making people feel comfortable, even when she was playing a role.
She hesitated at the door. “You know, Nick, your mom seems like she really cares about you.”
He exhaled sharply. “She does.”
Taylor tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Then maybe…you should call her sometime. You don’t have to, of course. Just something to think about.”
He frowned, his shoulders stiffening. “We have our own lives.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “If you say so.” Then she lifted a hand in a casual wave. “See you later.”
And just like that, she was gone.
Nick ran a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. First, his mother showing up unexpectedly. Then Taylor reading that card out loud, reminding him of words he’d spent years trying to ignore.
If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you always got.
His whole life, he’d done exactly that. He’d prioritized the company, controlled his emotions, and made sure nothing—no one—got close enough to shake his focus.
Yet here he was, sitting in an empty office, feeling something he couldn’t quite name as Taylor walked away without a second glance.
And he had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
Taylor waited while Tony loaded her clubs into his 4x4 Cherokee, the metallic clang of iron against iron cutting through the warm evening air. She shoved her hands into her pockets, shifting on her feet. “I hope Claire didn’t mind you coming with me tonight.”
Tony laughed, a low, knowing chuckle. “You’re incredible.”
She frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“If anyone’s going to be upset about you and me spending time together, it’s not Claire.” He closed the trunk with a heavy thud and arched a brow. “It’s your fiancé.”
Her stomach twisted. Try as she might, she still couldn’t understand why Nick hadn’t come today. Why he hadn’t wanted to come.
“You never told me why he bailed on you,” Tony pressed, his voice softer, but filled with quiet curiosity.
Taylor forced a shrug. “This golf match was last-minute. Nick had work to do.”
Tony tilted his head, watching her carefully, as if reading between the words she wasn’t saying. “So, you’re telling me he’s not lurking in the shadows, waiting to reclaim his territory? You’re free for the whole evening?”
“Not free,” Taylor countered, pushing thoughts of Nick aside with a teasing smile. “It’ll cost you.”
Playing along, Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet with exaggerated flair. “Okay, how much?”
She grinned. “There’s a Dairy Queen down on Main I’ve been meaning to check out. Do you have enough for a?—”
“Vanilla dip cone with butterscotch?” he finished, his smile turning boyish.
Taylor’s face lit up. “You remembered.”
“How could I forget? Hanging out at DQ with you was a big deal.” Tony reached over and tugged gently at her hair, a familiar gesture from their teenage years. “Tonight, we’ll go all out. Ice cream and drinks are on me.”
The easy warmth between them tugged at something inside her—something that had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with comfort, familiarity. Tony had been there in the days when life was simpler, when she hadn’t had to think about things like fake engagements or merger deals disguised as relationships.
Without thinking, she flung her arms around him. “You’re the best.”
His arms wrapped around her, warm and solid. But unlike before, the moment stretched—just long enough for Taylor to feel something shift. Was it her imagination, or did he seem reluctant to let her go?
She finally pulled back, studying his face. Was she searching for something? And if she found it, what then?
Tony must have sensed her unease, because he flashed an easy wink, and the warm friendliness in his grin reassured her. The moment passed.