Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What did you think of Pastor’s sermon this morning, Nick?” Nana added another generous dollop of jelly to her toast, her sharp eyes lifting to meet his.
Nick hesitated, taking a slow sip of his coffee. Stopping at the Pioneer Room after church had somehow become a regular event—one he hadn’t expected to enjoy as much as he did. At first, it had felt like just another part of the act, another way to reinforce the illusion of his engagement. But now? Now he found himself looking forward to the easy rhythm of Sunday mornings with Taylor and her grandparents.
He set his cup down, weighing his response. Technically, the minister had been excellent—strong delivery, good pacing, a touch of humor to keep people engaged. But Nick had a feeling Nana wasn’t asking about the quality of the speech. She was asking about the message. Forgiveness.
His jaw tensed.
“Excellent sermon,” he said evenly.
Nana studied him for a beat, then turned her attention to Taylor. “What’d you think about it, dear?”
Taylor set down her glass of milk, her fingers tracing the rim absently. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, catching the rich auburn strands of her hair and making them glow. She looked thoughtful, almost troubled.
“Forgiveness is a hard one,” she admitted. “I still struggle with it. Sometimes, it feels like forgiving someone excuses what they did, like it erases the hurt they caused.”
Nana nodded, her expression turning pensive. “I know what you mean. But that’s what I like about Pastor Schmidt’s sermons. They don’t just tell you what you should do—they make you think about why.”
Nick exhaled through his nose and stabbed at his eggs with his fork. They made you think too much.
When he’d first started coming to church with Taylor, he’d been able to tune out the sermons, to let the words roll off him like water off a duck’s back. But lately? Lately, they were creeping in. Sticking.
He didn’t like it.
And it wasn’t enough that he got blindsided by the message in church—they had to dissect it again over breakfast. It was enough to kill a guy’s appetite.
“Nick?”
He glanced up, realizing too late that he’d zoned out. Three pairs of eyes were locked on him.
Bill chuckled knowingly. “I think we lost you for a minute there.”
Nana gave him a pointed look. “I asked if you find it hard to forgive.”
Nick shifted in his chair. That hot seat feeling was back again. Hard to forgive? No, not usually. He prided himself on being a rational man, someone who didn’t waste energy nursing grudges. Except when it came to Sylvia.
“Not usually, no.” He forced a smile, reaching for the safest ground he could find. “In fact, I’ve already forgiven your grandfather for beating me at golf on Friday.”
Bill let out a hearty chuckle. “You should’ve seen the look on his face when we tallied up the scores.” He turned to Taylor. “Your fiancé isn’t used to losing to a senior citizen.”
Nick smirked, shaking his head. “Senior citizen? That’s debatable.”
A voice cut in behind him. “No way.”
Nick’s body went rigid before he even turned around. He knew that voice.
He schooled his features into something neutral as he turned, but the rock in his stomach didn’t budge.
“Tony!” Grandpa Bill’s voice was warm with genuine pleasure as he rose to clasp the younger man’s hand. “And Miss Waters, what a pleasure to see you again.”
Nick tightened his grip on his coffee cup.
Of course, Claire was here too. Because if there was one person who thrived on making things uncomfortable, it was her.
His stomach tensed, and suddenly, the easy camaraderie of the breakfast table felt suffocating.
Bill’s warm welcome only made things worse. “Pull up a couple of chairs. We’d love to have you join us,” he urged, completely oblivious to the tension Nick felt crawling up the back of his neck.
“You’re incredibly kind,” Claire all but purred, placing a hand on Bill’s arm as she batted her lashes. “And please—” her gaze flickered to Taylor, then Nick, “—call me Claire.”
Nick finally turned, locking eyes with Tony first. The other man wore an easy, casual grin, but there was something too deliberate in the way he stood just a little too close to Taylor’s chair.
And Claire—she was watching him with that same calculating look she always had, like a cat playing with a mouse.
Nick forced himself to smile, but it felt more like baring his teeth. “Tony,” he said, his voice smooth, measured. “Claire.”
Bill, ever the gracious host, was already pulling out a chair for Claire. “Well, Claire,” he said, “what brings you and Tony out today? I didn’t think I saw you in church.”
Nick barely smothered a smirk at that. He could only imagine Claire’s reaction to a Sunday sermon.
“Church?” Claire started to laugh, then stopped, waving a dismissive hand. “Tony wanted to go on some nature walk at sunrise. He caught me at a weak moment and I agreed.”
Nick barely held back an eye roll. Yeah, right.
Taylor, who had been mostly quiet up until now, smiled as she turned to Tony. “When we lived in D.C., we used to walk almost every Saturday.”
Nick tensed.
“I remember.” Tony’s smile widened. “Every week for almost a year is hard to forget.”
Nick narrowed his gaze. He had known Taylor and Tony had been close, but almost a year of Saturday walks? That was more time than Nick had ever spent with her. The thought made his jaw tighten.
“Almost a year,” Claire echoed, her voice silky. “Why, after all that talking, you probably know more about Taylor than Nick does.”
Nick’s fingers twitched around his coffee cup, but he didn’t rise to the bait.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Tony shrugged, as if dismissing the thought. But his smug expression said otherwise.
Nick took a slow sip of coffee, letting the silence stretch before finally saying, “People change.”
Claire’s eyes glittered with amusement. “We all change over time,” Nana agreed, ever the peacemaker.
But Claire wasn’t done. “Let’s do a little test.” She leaned forward, her smile widening. “Let’s see how much Tony remembers from those long, intimate walks.”
“They weren’t intimate,” Taylor said sharply.
“We were just friends, Claire,” Tony added, though he didn’t sound particularly convincing.
“Okay, okay.” Claire waved a dismissive hand. “But you knew Taylor pretty well, right?”
Tony nodded.
“Alright then. First question.” She flicked a glance toward Nick before returning her gaze to Tony. “How many children did Taylor want to have?”
Nick smirked. That was easy. One. Maybe two.
Tony paused for a moment, then said, “Back then, she wanted six.”
Nick nearly choked on his coffee. “Six?” The word burst from his lips before he could stop it.
Across the table, Bill and Nana chuckled.
Taylor flushed.
And Claire? She looked downright delighted.
“I’m afraid he’s right,” Taylor admitted, her voice filled with self-conscious amusement. “Growing up as a ‘lonely only,’ I’d decided long ago that I wanted a whole house full of children.”
Nick could only stare at her. Six kids? Who in their right mind wanted six kids?
“What do you think of that, Nick?” Claire asked, her tone all too casual. “I seem to remember that at one time you weren’t sure if you wanted any children.”
All eyes turned to him, and for the first time that morning, he felt truly cornered. He resisted the urge to adjust his suddenly-too-tight collar.
Instead, he reached across the table, caught Taylor’s hand, and brought it to his lips.
“You forget, Claire,” he murmured, meeting Taylor’s startled gaze. “That was before I met Taylor.”
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken.
Taylor’s fingers tightened slightly in his. And Nick held on, just a little longer than necessary.
That was before I met Taylor .
The words hung in the air, more potent than Nick had intended. Claire’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes sharpened as if she sensed a shift she hadn’t accounted for. Tony, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, watching Nick with a quiet intensity that set his teeth on edge.
Taylor’s fingers tensed in his grasp, and he glanced at her, half expecting to see a look of amusement at his theatrics. Instead, there was something softer in her expression—surprise, maybe, or something dangerously close to hope. Nick’s stomach twisted. He’d spoken on instinct, the words slipping out before he could remind himself that none of this was real.
She was playing a role, and so was he.
But why did it feel different this time? Why did it feel like he’d just crossed a line he couldn’t uncross?
“I have to admit, six kids is a bit more than I was expecting,” he said, keeping his tone light, brushing his thumb along the back of her hand, a gesture meant to sell the act. But the way her fingers curled around his sent a flicker of warmth through him, unsettling and entirely unwelcome.
Taylor laughed, shaking her head. “That was teenage me talking. I’m not sure I’d survive six.” Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe four.”
Nick choked on his coffee. “Four?”
Grandpa Bill chuckled, clearly entertained. “That’s a compromise, son.”
“Four kids, a dog, and a house with a wraparound porch,” Taylor mused, her voice playful, but her eyes distant, lost in a world Nick wasn’t sure he belonged in.
The strangest thing was, for a fraction of a second, he could almost see it too.
“That’s quite the dream, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling her closer.
Her gaze flickered to his, and for a moment, everything else—the crowded restaurant, Claire’s scrutiny, Tony’s thinly veiled annoyance—faded into the background. There was only her, the woman he was pretending to love, and the dangerous realization that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t entirely an act anymore.
Claire’s smile never wavered, but Nick caught the sharp glint in her eyes—the satisfaction of someone who had successfully set a trap. He hadn’t meant to react so strongly, hadn’t planned to reach for Taylor’s hand, let alone press his lips to it. But the thought of Tony knowing her past so intimately, of sharing memories with her that Nick would never be a part of, had ignited something raw and unfiltered inside him.
Taylor’s fingers trembled slightly in his grasp, her blush deepening, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she met his gaze with something softer—surprise, maybe curiosity. Nick wasn’t sure.
“Well,” Claire drawled, leaning back in her chair, watching them like a cat toying with a pair of trapped mice. “I suppose love does change a person.”
Nick forced a smile. “That’s what they say.”
Tony chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “Good to know I helped shape Taylor’s future, then.”
Nick’s grip on Taylor’s hand tightened slightly. The air between them thickened, charged with something he didn’t quite understand but wasn’t ready to analyze. His heart was pounding—too fast for a simple breakfast discussion.
Taylor, ever the peacemaker, smiled and turned to her grandfather. “Didn’t you say you wanted to try the cinnamon rolls today, Grandpa?”
Bill chuckled, clearly entertained by the tension swirling around the table. “I did, and I plan to. But I have to say, watching you all squirm is nearly as satisfying.”
Nana gave him a warning look, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, hush, Bill.”
Nick exhaled, feeling the moment shift. But the weight in his chest remained. It was only a game, a performance—one he’d started and had played convincingly. Yet, when he looked at Taylor now, he wasn’t sure who was fooling who.
* * *
“When were you planning to drop the bombshell that you wanted six kids?” Nick’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He kept his gaze locked on the road ahead, but his mind reeled.
Taylor arched an eyebrow. “How about after the wedding that’s never going to happen?” Her voice was syrupy sweet, but the challenge in her eyes was unmistakable.
Nick blew out a harsh breath, knowing full well he was being unreasonable, yet somehow unable to rein himself in. “Who in this day and age wants that many kids?”
Her lips curved, her green eyes dancing with mischief. “I do.”
His jaw clenched. “Well, I don’t.”
The words left his mouth with more force than he intended, but the image had already hit him—little boys with his dark hair and her green eyes, tugging at his sleeves, calling him Dad. He shoved it aside before it could settle.
Taylor let out an exasperated sigh and leaned back in her seat, clearly amused at his distress. “What does it matter? It’s all pretend anyway.”
“Pretend?” He turned to glance at her briefly before refocusing on the road. “How exactly does one pretend to want six kids?”
Taylor shrugged, her expression infuriatingly relaxed. “You’re a smart guy. You’ll think of something.”
Nick raked a hand through his hair, realizing there was no winning this conversation. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, eager to leave the topic in the dust behind them. He could only hope it wouldn’t come up again.
* * *
The next day, after a round of golf, Bill Rollins clapped a hand on Nick’s shoulder just as they were heading toward the clubhouse. “Go on ahead,” he told the others.
Nick stifled a groan. He ran an honest business, didn’t cheat at golf—why couldn’t he catch a break?
“Six kids, huh?” Bill started, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’d seen enough life to know what mattered. “That’s a big responsibility.”
Nick forced a nod, bracing himself.
“I know Taylor is willing to make that commitment,” Bill continued, his gaze sharp, “but you have to be willing too. Kids need both parents around.”
Nick didn’t miss the meaning beneath Bill’s words. He’d noticed. Noticed how much time Nick spent at the office, how work always came first.
And he wasn’t wrong.
Whether Nick had a wife and six kids at home or not, nothing would change. His work—his company—would always come first.
Bill studied him, waiting. “Are you sure a big family is what you want, son?”
Of course it wasn’t. He knew it. Taylor knew it. But what would Bill think if he said that? Probably that his granddaughter had picked the wrong man.
Pretend you do.
Nick inhaled sharply and forced a laugh. He clapped a hand on Bill’s back, mustering every ounce of charm he had.
“Call me crazy,” he said with a grin he hoped was convincing, “but I really do.”
The words tasted foreign on his tongue.
And for the first time, he wondered just how long he could keep pretending.