Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Nick!”
Surprise flickered across his mother’s face, quickly followed by a rush of warmth.
Nick shifted from one foot to the other. He shouldn’t be here. He’d spent the past two years avoiding this house, keeping his distance. But after his conversation with the pastor about family, he knew it was time to mend some fences.
“I probably should have called,” he said gruffly. Or maybe he shouldn’t have come at all. “If I’m interrupting…”
Sylvia, however, didn’t give him a chance to back out. “Nonsense.” She reached for his arm, her grip surprisingly firm as she practically yanked him over the threshold.
“I was just puttering around. Charlie’s out golfing—can you believe it? In this weather?” She chattered as she led him into the living room, not even pausing for breath. Like she was afraid if she did, he’d change his mind and leave.
Nick wasn’t sure if it was sad or reassuring that she knew him so well.
“Can I get you some iced tea? Or I can brew coffee?”
“Mother.” His hand found her arm, stopping her mid-motion. “Can we just talk?”
She stilled.
A shadow passed over her face, and guilt gnawed at him. How many times had he dismissed her? Let his resentment fester instead of trying to understand?
“I need your help,” he admitted.
Sylvia’s brows lifted. “Is it the company?”
It made sense that she’d assume that. The business had been his world for so long.
“No,” he said, his throat tight. “It’s not about work.”
Something flickered in her expression—hope, maybe. Worry. She gestured for him to take a seat, and for a moment, Nick almost believed she’d sit next to him.
But instead, she lowered herself into the overstuffed chair across from him, the distance between them feeling too vast for comfort. Her flushed excitement had faded, replaced by wary expectation.
“What’s the matter, Nick?”
He took a breath. There was no easy way to ask.
“Were you and Dad happy together?”
Her reaction was almost imperceptible. A slight stiffening of her shoulders. A momentary flicker of surprise.
“Happy?” she echoed, as if she hadn’t expected the question. “What a strange thing to ask.”
His gut twisted. “Are you and Charlie happy?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then why is it so odd for me to ask about you and Dad?”
She smoothed a wrinkle from her slacks. A nervous gesture.
Nick clenched his jaw.
How much of his life had been built around an illusion?
Sylvia sighed. “Your father was a wonderful man with many fine qualities.”
“Mother, please,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “The truth.”
She hesitated. Then, softly, “I always loved your father, Nick.” A pause. “But toward the end, I didn’t always like him that much.”
His heart clenched.
“That couldn’t have something to do with the spending, could it?” he asked, unable to keep the cynicism from his voice.
Surprisingly, she didn’t react.
“To some extent, yes.” She met his gaze, her own eyes dark with memories. “But it was more than that.” A shadow crossed her face. “When we were first married, we were happy. But as the business grew, he began to spend more and more time at the office. We wanted different things.”
Nick swallowed hard. He knew this story all too well.
“Especially that last year.” Her voice lowered. “He felt it was important to keep up appearances.”
Nick froze. “Appearances?”
“You remember how he was.” A sad, knowing smile tugged at her lips. “Such a private man. When he started staying home because he didn’t have the energy to go to work, he worried about the rumors. To counter the speculation that the business was in trouble, he increased his spending rather than scaling back. He insisted we be seen at all the best parties.”
Nick’s stomach dropped.
He’d always believed it was her.
Her greed. Her extravagance. Her reckless disregard for his company’s future.
But it hadn’t been her at all.
“Are you saying all that spending was his idea?”
His mother looked just as confused. “Of course. You know that.” She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Take the Jag, for instance. He ordered it before he was diagnosed and wouldn’t hear of canceling. ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘what would people think?’” She shook her head, a trace of bitterness coloring her voice. “He didn’t seem to understand that his extravagant spending was putting the entire company at risk.”
Nick sat there, stunned.
He had spent years resenting his mother. Believing she was the reason his father’s legacy had nearly crumbled. That she had cared more about status than stability.
And he had been wrong.
All these years. Wrong.
His fingers curled into fists.
He buried his face in his hands. If he was wrong about this, what else had he been wrong about?
“Nick.”
Her voice was soft. Concerned.
A hand settled lightly on his arm.
For the first time in years, he didn’t flinch away.
He looked up and met her eyes—blue, just like his. And for the first time, he saw her.
Not as the woman he’d made into a villain.
Not as a symbol of misplaced blame.
But as his mother.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded.
Nick exhaled.
Everything.
The weight of his own mistakes pressed down on him, suffocating.
He had let his father’s last words define him. Shape him. And in doing so, he had turned into the very man he had resented.
He had let his company rule his life.
He had pushed away the people who loved him.
He had let pride cost him Taylor.
And he was so darn tired of it all.
His throat felt tight. His voice raw.
“Mother,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I know I haven’t been the son you deserved.”
Her lips parted, as if to protest, but he shook his head.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’ve been stubborn. And blind. And for too long, I let my own resentment get in the way of seeing the truth.”
A tremor ran through her fingers as she squeezed his hand. “You’re here now.”
He nodded.
And for the first time in years, it felt like enough.
But this wasn’t the only fence he needed to mend.
It was time to fight for Taylor.
* * *
Tony forced a laugh, though Claire’s words sent a chill crawling up his spine. He had always known she was manipulative, but this? This was a new level.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, pulling back slightly. “You want me to seduce Taylor—who, by the way, is completely in love with Nick and not the kind of woman to cheat—and if I can’t, you just want me to lie about it?”
Claire arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “Is that a problem?”
Yeah, it was a problem. A big one. Taylor wasn’t just some random woman. She was his friend. And though he had agreed to stir the pot, this was something else entirely.
“This isn’t what we discussed,” Tony said carefully.
Claire sighed, exasperated. “Tony, you agreed to help me break them up. You knew from the start that wouldn’t happen by playing fair. Nick is already on the edge. He’s drowning in his own jealousy. We just need to give him a little push .”
Tony clenched his jaw. “And what happens when Taylor finds out? Because she will .”
Claire waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll be heartbroken, but she’ll recover. Women always do.”
The casual cruelty in her voice made his stomach twist. She really didn’t care who she hurt, as long as she got what she wanted.
“You don’t understand Taylor,” Tony said. “She’s not the type to take this lying down. She’ll fight for Nick.”
Claire’s smile didn’t falter. “Not if he doesn’t give her a chance. Trust me, once Nick thinks she’s been unfaithful, he’ll be done with her. She’ll be out of his life, and he’ll come running right back to me.”
Tony exhaled sharply. He wanted the money, but this? This was low . He might have agreed to play along in the beginning, but this was crossing a line he wasn’t sure he could come back from.
Claire leaned in again, her voice soft and coaxing. “Come on, Tony. Think about it. You get paid, I get Nick, and Taylor? She’ll be better off. She deserves a guy who actually wants her. Who wouldn’t rather be married to his company .”
Tony hesitated. He had no loyalty to Nick. The guy had it all—money, power, the perfect life. And yet… something about this didn’t sit right.
“Just think about it,” Claire purred, running a finger down his chest before pulling away. “You’re a smart man. You’ll make the right choice.”
As she walked away, Tony let out a slow breath.
Yeah, he would make the right choice.
And it probably wasn’t going to be the one Claire wanted.
* * *
Taylor yanked on the mower cord, her arm aching from the repeated effort. Sweat dripped down her temple, her ponytail clinging to the damp skin at the back of her neck. The mower sputtered, coughed, and died again.
"Come on, you stupid thing," she muttered, tightening her grip and pulling harder. Nothing. The machine remained stubbornly silent, mocking her.
As if this day couldn’t get any worse.
A warm breeze stirred the humid air, but it did nothing to ease the heat pressing against her skin. Her thoughts churned as relentlessly as the mower should have been. Nick. Their fight. The words they’d exchanged. She yanked the cord again, as if sheer force might will it to start, might will everything in her life to make sense.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Tony’s voice cut through the sticky air, light with amusement, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
Startled, she glanced up, pushing stray hair from her face. Tony stood at the edge of the driveway, arms crossed, looking effortlessly cool in a crisp shirt and jeans. Meanwhile, she was red-faced, sweaty, and about one pull away from throwing the mower into the street.
“It looks like I’m attempting murder,” she grumbled, nudging the mower with the toe of her sneaker. “I’m just not sure yet if it’s the grass or this worthless hunk of metal.”
Tony’s lips twitched, but there was something else in his gaze, something that made Taylor uneasy.
“I’d say it’s time for a break,” he suggested, crooking a finger at her. “Before you kill it. Or it kills you.”
She exhaled sharply, giving the mower one last glare before stomping toward him.
"I've missed you," he said quietly, his dark eyes sweeping over her face. There was a weight in his voice that hadn’t been there before. "Is everything okay?"
Taylor hesitated, feeling suddenly exposed beneath his probing stare. She wanted to brush off his concern, but her heart wasn’t in it. Not today.
"I'm hot and extremely frustrated." She attempted a laugh, though it sounded hollow. "Want some tea?"
Tony smiled, but the concern in his eyes didn’t waver. "I'd love some."
She led him inside, hyper-aware of the silence stretching between them. In the kitchen, she filled two tumblers with ice, the clinking sound sharp in the stillness. As she poured, she could feel his gaze on her, waiting.
She slid his drink across the table and sank into the chair opposite him. “Alright, spill it. What’s up?”
Tony hesitated, running a hand through his hair before meeting her gaze. “Can’t a guy just stop by and check in on his friend?”
Taylor gave him a look. “Not when that guy is you, and not when he has that look on his face.”
He exhaled, leaning forward. “I wanted to talk to you about Nick.”
Taylor stiffened, her fingers tightening around her glass. “What about us?”
Had Nick already told people they’d broken up? The very idea sent a sharp, unexpected pain through her chest.
“Be honest with me,” Tony said, his voice steady. “Are you sure you want to marry him?”
The words landed like a slap, rattling through her. She blinked, caught off guard. "What kind of question is that?"
"An honest one," Tony said, his expression unreadable. "I know you, Taylor. And I know when you’re holding back.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She opened her mouth, ready to shut this conversation down, but the hesitation in her own heart betrayed her. Was she sure?
She forced a laugh, even as her stomach clenched. “Of course, I’m sure. Why would you even ask?”
Tony’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because from everything I’ve heard, Lanagan is a guy whose only real love is that company of his.”
A chill trickled down her spine. She set her glass down with more force than necessary. “That’s ridiculous.”
A flicker of something—hurt, maybe—passed through Tony’s eyes. He started to push back from the table. "Forget I said anything."
Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers curling around his wrist, stopping him.
"Tony, I didn’t mean—" She swallowed, softening her voice. "I just know Nick isn’t like that.”
His jaw tightened. "I hope you're right."
"I am," she said, more firmly this time.
Tony studied her, his gaze lingering on her face. Then he shook his head, a small, incredulous smile forming on his lips.
"You love him."
The certainty in his voice sent her heart slamming against her ribs. "What?"
"You love him," he repeated, leaning back, the amazement clear on his face. "I mean, you’ve said it before, but I never saw it in your eyes. Until now."
Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to deny it, to challenge him, but the truth was, he was right.
She did love Nick.
And it terrified her.
Tony reached across the table, his hand covering hers, warm and familiar. “If he’s the right one, then I’m happy for you. I just don’t know if he is.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. He was handsome, kind, the kind of man who would be so easy to love.
But not for her.
"You'll always be special to me, Tony,” she said softly.
"And you to me." But his smile was forced, his eyes shadowed. Abruptly, he shoved back his chair and rose. “I should get going.”
The sudden ring of her phone jolted them both. Taylor jumped. Before she could react, Tony grabbed it.
"Hello?"
His expression stilled, the color draining from his face. His fingers tightened around the phone.
Taylor's pulse kicked up. “Is it Nick?”
“No.” He exhaled slowly, his dark eyes full of something that made her stomach drop.
He held out the phone.
“It’s about your grandfather.”
Taylor’s fingers trembled as she took the phone, dread settling heavy in her chest.
“This is Taylor,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Miss Rollins?” The voice on the other end was steady but laced with urgency. “This is Dr. Pierce from Cedar Ridge General. Your grandfather was brought in a little while ago. He collapsed at home.”
Collapsed.
The word sliced through her like a knife.
She gripped the phone tighter. “Is he—how is he? Is he awake? Can I?—”
“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Pierce assured her, though his voice held the careful neutrality of someone trying not to make promises. “But we need you to come in as soon as possible.”
“I—I’m on my way.”
She barely heard the doctor’s parting words before she lowered the phone.
Tony was already grabbing his keys. “Let’s go.”
“No.” Taylor shook her head. “I—I need to drive myself.”
“Taylor—”
“Please.” She swallowed hard, struggling to keep it together. “I just need to—” She broke off, unable to finish.
Tony shook his head. “You’re in no condition to drive.”
She didn’t have the energy to argue.
Her grandfather—her rock, her guide, the man who had always been there—had collapsed.
The very idea was unthinkable.
She needed to get to him. Now.