Chapter 31
31
Natalie
The first snow is always the most magical.
Sitting in the window seat of the library with a half-eaten piece of pumpkin pie next to me, I lean my back against the bookcase and watch as the snowflakes fall from the sky, hoping to find peace in the sight. Something is off this year.
Pressing my palm to the cold glass, I want to feel the chill seep into my skin. In a house with three fireplaces and a thermostat set at a constant seventy-three degrees, I’ve been missing the warmth that reaches my bones. Maybe this will remind me that it’s still there. That he’s still with me.
Numb is no way to feel, but the winter storm that blew in last night doesn’t change my confusion regarding Nick. I’m still not sure I’m ready to have a conversation that finalizes our ending. What will he say but what he thinks I want to hear? Rearranging words to make them sound prettier doesn’t change the meaning.
The whole situation is ugly, and I feel caught in the middle. The thing is . . . the empty bench comes to mind again. I’ve struggled to get the image out of my head. I may have told him to leave for good, but I realize now that I might have acted in haste. I had other priorities at the time, the only one I should have had—my dad.
My mom comes silently into the room to drop off a glass of water for my dad, who’s sleeping soundly, checks the logs in the fireplace, and smiles at me before disappearing again. My parents have always been . . . just my parents. But seeing how gentle she is with him and hearing him say it was her touch that guided him back to life puts them in a whole new light.
They aren’t just the parents of Jackson and me. They aren’t two powerhouses in the financial world. They’re John and Martine, two lost souls who found their mate sitting in a coffee shop, and two people still in love after more than thirty years.
I’ve had a great example of what love looks like, how it behaves, and most importantly, how it grows through the years. How it grows even when there are disagreements and fights. Their opinions have conflicted many times, yet . . . they always come back together. That takes patience and humility . . . and deep love that weathers storms.
Is this a storm that Nick and I can weather?
I still have my company, though I’m not sure what’s happening behind the scenes at CWM. Nothing has shut me down yet, not a certified letter, email, or even a voicemail. Professionally I have no idea where I stand, so I keep going—business as usual.
Personally, I’m not having as much luck. It’s hard to figure out how to move around the aftermath without getting further injured. He’s said it a million times— we moved fast . But was it too fast, or were we moving at our own pace, one that was right for us?
The snow begins to cling to the edges of the window, and warm winter nights have me recalling eyes that held that same magic and arms that made me feel safe. Call it a momentary breakdown, but I’m tired of guessing and weak to the romantic ambiance outside my window. Picking up my phone, I decide to text Nick.
I have no idea what to say, but I think I should start with the basics. Me: Are you still in the ci…
Scratch that. I delete it, and then type: I love you . . .
There’s no way I can send a mixed message like that. I backspace, ridding my screen of the words that come off as an offensive tackle in my current emotional state. The reality is, I can love him, but is it strong enough to last? Despite what he says, love can’t always be the answer.
Life’s too complicated for that. Hearing what Tatum once said in my head— talk to him —I take a deep breath to steady my shaking hands and text one question: Did you sign that contract?
It’s the one question with an answer that can change everything. I heard about it, but I’ve not seen anything with my own eyes. I didn’t want to, storing my faith in a secret hope chest buried in a cranny of my heart that we could be together again.
My heart drums in my chest while I stare at the screen. Please let this all be a big mistake. I can handle that Christiansen Wealth Management made a logical business decision. I understand basic economics, and the business rationale of endorsing a company if it’s financially viable makes sense, too. But that addition to the contract to strip STJ of its backing just seems so personal. They didn’t know me, but Nick did. That’s what I can’t wrap my head around. And it will put the final nail in the coffin if he signed the document because of that.
The dots come fast as if he’s been waiting for me to contact him. I guess he has since I’m the one who blocked him after the last time we spoke. Hope takes flight, and my heart is comforted by the opportunity that maybe, just maybe, we can find our way out of this tangled mess.
Nick: Please meet me. We can discuss it.
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. I guess I got my answer. Did he really choose to go along with this, to think he could take my company away without repercussions? Has he forgotten that I agreed to be his wife? His wife? I balk at the notion.
Instead, I’m miles away from him, two hundred or more than four thousand, I haven’t a clue. I’m trying to decipher between the truth and lies, and he’s not making it any easier with his response to my text. It’s a simple question. His non-answer speaks volumes.
I’ve been through the wringer and back emotionally. I’m not sure I can take much more without losing myself completely.
Dane tried to break me.
I won’t let Nick.
As angry as I am, doubt still fills me. I pause with my finger hovering over the option on the screen. I’m given some relief that it’s not permanent, and then click to block his number.
I feel no satisfaction in the act. Actually, I feel worse than I did, but I’ll get past it, and so will he, probably way faster than me if he hasn’t already. I’m the fool who believed we were destiny. I’ll not fall for that nonsense again.
“I can’t believe November is almost over.”
I turn to see my dad awake on the leather recliner by the roaring fire. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was, but I woke up because you called me.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve been quiet. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You weren’t disturbing me, but a father knows when his children need him. You may not have voiced my name, but you definitely needed my help. What’s on your mind, dear daughter?” A smile takes hold of my lips.
My dad’s voice is gentler since he had the heart attack, remaining positive and seeming to enjoy all the doting we’ve been doing. He’s also been following his doctor’s orders for calm to a T, so afternoon naps in the library have become a regular thing.
I find peace in his presence, and the surrounding books are my companions when I’m not working. I set my laptop down on the cushion next to me and angle his way, leaving out the back and forth I just had with Nick. The last thing I want to do is add my stress about men to my dad’s plate. “Work.”
“You used to call it fun. Now it’s work?”
“I don’t get to shop and match the perfect gift as much since running the company takes so much time.”
“That’s too bad. I’ve always heard that hobbies shouldn’t become your source of income. Passion isn’t built on monotony. When you love what you do, you suddenly look up to find that time has sped into the future.”
“Very true.” The darker colors of the room feel like a hug, wrapped around me and giving me comfort. Like my dad. I still have to tease, though. “I think the library is getting to you. You’re becoming quite the philosopher in here.”
“Maybe I should nap in the sunroom instead.”
“Then you’d be telling me to look on the bright side.”
He chuckles. “A sun pun. Very clever.” Lowering the chair, he sits upright. “Who needs a room to give good advice. Look on the bright side.”
Is there one? Yes. I tighten the topknot on my head while glancing out the window to find a hint of blue skies peeking through the heavy clouds. The snow has stopped, but I could use the sunshine. “I have my business, and it’s going strong.”
“Your mind may not be focused, but your heart is determined. There’s no stopping you.”
“It would be nice to have both on board at the same time.”
“The universe loves to challenge us in new ways.”
Getting up, I move closer, sitting in a chair across from him. “You’re too young to be this wise, Dad.”
“Don’t I know it.” He takes the glass and sips water before setting it down again. “Your mom takes good care of me.”
“She does.” Nothing feels hurried in this tucked-away room. It’s something I’ve always appreciated about it.
The sound of him shifting on the leather has me looking at him—to make sure he’s all right—but also, I’m seeking advice, needing my dad. I’m all over the place. He says, “I heard that you found out about Christiansen Wealth Management taking over.”
“Rumors on the street.”
“Or your mom.”
“Yes, Mom told me when you were in the hospital.”
He stares past me out the window. There’s no hurry to finish this conversation, so I take the time to get a good look at him. His hair is graying, the darker strands of his natural color losing the battle to the salt and pepper. He moves with ease despite the recovery. I can’t help but notice the similarities between him and the library. His whole demeanor is wrapped up in this room—worldly, comforting, and a wealth of knowledge.
His eyes connect with mine, and he says, “Not everything you hear is true, Natalie.”
“Is there a record you’re trying to set straight?” The twist of words reminds me of someone I used to know, so well that I can’t even say I do without thinking of Nick.
“I think I need to consider how unhappy you are.”
“You didn’t make me sad. Scared me a little. Correction— a lot .” I give him a wink. “But you’re not to blame for anything else. Actually, you did so much for me, Dad. I feel like I haven’t thanked you enough. Thank you.”
“Come here, honey.”
I get up and move closer, sitting on the wide arm of the chair. I lean down and give him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re doing better.”
“This is not exactly how I wanted to spend my early retirement, but this is the hand I’ve been dealt.” He shifts to make sure that eye contact is solid. He always believed it was important to have a firm handshake and to look people in the eye. “I need to speak with your mother, but there’s more to the story with the Christiansens. I’ve spoken to Corbin a few times.”
“I didn’t know you were on speaking terms with them?”
“We weren’t for a few weeks, but now we’re both eager to work things out. A lot has been said. Some true and some . . . let’s just call it stretches of the truth.”
Moving to the fire, I hold my hands down toward the flame. “Mom told me everything, Dad. We don’t have to go over it again.”
“I think we do.”
Dread and curiosity fill me equally. As much as it’s not a door I want to reopen, maybe getting his thoughts on it will help me move on. I sure hope so.
He says, “Your mom has good intentions. She’s a smart woman, but she leads with her heart. I’ve always said it’s what made her successful. People just like working with her. We were sort of a good guy/bad guy team.” He rolls his eyes, and I grin, knowing where I got that bad habit from. “I was always the bad guy.”
“Not to me.”
“Eh, you were easy. I used to keep chocolate candy in my pocket. You very quickly figured out how to sweet-talk me right out of it. That’s from your mother’s side.” He takes another sip of water and clears his throat.
“I can put out the fire if you’re too hot.”
“No, it’s fine. What I was saying about your mom is that I’d just had a heart attack. She reacted from fear of losing me, looking to blame anyone but the culprit.”
Leaning against the mantel, I ask, “Who’s the culprit?”
“Me. I was told years ago to lower my blood pressure, work out, work less, and reduce my stressors. I worked out, ate better, but the stress was always there.” He takes the blanket off and stands, stretching his legs and arms. He’s not feeble by any means, thank God, but he’s careful. The trajectory of his healing is helpful and inspiring. Joining me in front of the fire, he says, “I was selling the company not to only give Martine and me a new start—a slower life we can enjoy—but to also give Jackson the funding he will need to start his own venture. And for you, Natalie, to keep supporting your dreams—financially, if you needed it, and emotionally . . . if you needed that as well.”
“I don’t understand. Mom said you were fighting for my company, and that’s what caused the heart attack.”
Reaching out, he takes me by the shoulders. “That’s been an awful burden you’ve had to bear for weeks now. I’m sorry I let it go on this long.”
“But I was told Nick signed the contract. He signed a contract to dissolve my dreams. I’ve put everything into building a career, doing something I love, and he signed his name to a piece of paper that would end it.”
“Would it? I don’t ask that lightly or rhetorically. I ask that with genuine curiosity to what you truly believe.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“He can’t end your dreams. No one can.”
Do I dig deep and admit a weakness I’ve carried just as long, or do I protect him by hiding the truth? Standing before me is a man I admire, one who has shown nothing but strength. He can handle it. “Through everything I was told, I never stopped loving him. But I can’t get over the fact that he would do something to purposely hurt me that way.”
“Facts are funny like that. The fact that you were dating Nick came as a surprise. The fact that it was serious in such a short time was another shock. But the fact that I get stuck on is why you broke up with him.” He wanders to the windows to look out, shoving his hands in his pockets in quiet contemplation.
With a lump in my throat, I find it hard to speak to any of that. I’ve revealed more than I thought I would already, but here he is, making me want to vomit the rest of my feelings. Where will that leave me, though? Empty again.
He angles back, and says, “He signed the papers. There’s no getting around that, but what I’ve been wrestling with is why?”
“You and me both.”
“No, I don’t understand why you haven’t talked to him about it, asked him directly? Why aren’t you going to the source itself?”
I raise my finger into the air, my lips parting as I’m about to say something, but then I lower it down again and stare at him. Was this the best advice ever, or did I just get the blame? My dad usually isn’t one for subtlety, but I see what’s he’s doing in the nicest way possible. “I should have. I should have known what was happening behind the scenes and been on top of my loan. I trust you, but that doesn’t mean I could be so hands-off. STJ is my business, my baby. I need to take some of the responsibility.”
“There’s a lot of gray area in this matter, but the resolution rests solely in your hands.” His words remind me of what Nick had said. “This isn’t black and white. She’s in the gray area of understanding.”
“It seems I’ve been stuck in that same gray area.”
“You’re not alone. I’ve learned we weren’t being represented the way we should have been. Garrett Stans saw an opportunity to weasel his way into their good graces at our expense.”
“I’m not following.”
“I mentioned how Corbin and I have been communicating. He was talking about how helpful Garrett’s been and wanted my thoughts on promoting him. More details were shared, and we found that Garrett had not been working for our best interests. Only his own.” He sits on the window seat, and says, “None of that matters where you’re concerned. I just thought you should know that he was the one who put that list of companies together that would lose their funding cut. What does matter is that Corbin scrapped that amendment and agreed to carry the loans for their term.”
I gasp, quickly covering my mouth. Lowering my hand, I feel my heart begin to race. “My loan is safe?”
He smiles, and it’s the most comforting sight I’ve seen since . . . well, since Nick and before my dad had the attack. He continues, “It is, but we’re still trying to finagle it out of the agreement. As for the details regarding Nick’s role in all this, I think you should ask him yourself. Just promise me you’ll be here for Thanksgiving. I have a lot to be grateful for and I know it will mean everything to your mom.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
I walk out calmly, but I’m overcome with emotions. I dash to the staircase and lean against the wall, the thoughts from Nick betraying me to loving the man more than anything spin in my head. I take my phone out and look at his last message: Please meet me. We can discuss it.
Do I owe him that opportunity or do it for myself?
This time, I know the answer. Both.
I’ve made a commitment to my dad to stay, but my heart is already halfway to LA.