Chapter 31 Thatcher
THATCHER
Lusitana’s familiar smell wraps around me as I push through the door, garlic, olive oil, and bread baking. The first person I see is River, Adam’s fiancé and the restaurant’s manager.
“Meatball!” His face lights up before shifting to confusion. “What are you doing here? It’s not family dinner night.”
“I asked my dad to meet me for lunch.”
River’s eyebrows shoot up. “Does this have anything to do with yesterday’s visit from your cousins? Adam came home buzzing about some kind of intervention.”
“Their visit helped me get my thoughts straight,” I admit. “I needed to see some things clearly. I’m here to meet my dad.”
River nods and leads me to a quiet table near the back, handing me a menu I’ve had memorized since childhood. “Good luck,” he says, squeezing my shoulder before heading back to the bar.
My phone buzzes again. Pierce’s name flashes across the screen for the seventh time this morning.
My thumb hovers over the answer button, but I force myself to decline the call.
I can’t talk to him until I have a solution, until I know for certain that I can offer him more than just longing and broken promises.
I check my watch. Dad should be here any moment. The menu blurs in front of me, but I couldn’t pick something to eat even if I wanted to. My stomach is twisted in knots so tight I’m not sure I could keep anything down.
The door opens and my father walks in, his posture as rigid and commanding as always. Thatcher Edward Charles II surveys the restaurant like he’s assessing a business acquisition before his eyes land on me. He crosses the room with purposeful strides and slides into the seat across from me.
“Thatcher.” He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Have you finally come to your senses? Are you here to discuss the position at Tobias’s firm?”
I open my mouth to say yes, to swallow my pride and accept the lifeline he’s offering. But something stops me. A question that’s been burning for years, maybe my whole life.
“Why am I such a disappointment to you?”
The words hang between us, raw and unfiltered. My father’s expression shifts, and for the first time in my memory, I can’t read him.
“Thatcher—”
“No, I need to know. I’ve spent my entire life feeling like I’ve never been good enough. I’ve never measured up to whatever standard you’ve set. What did I do wrong?”
My father is quiet for a long moment, his fingers tracing the edge of his water glass. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer than I’ve heard it in years.
“Do you remember when you were seven, and we had you tested?”
“Tested?”
“Your IQ. You were incredibly precocious, reading at an advanced level, solving puzzles that stumped kids twice your age. But you also seemed to attract chaos everywhere you went. Bizarre incidents that defied explanation. Your mother and I were worried.”
I think back to childhood memories of broken vases I swear I never touched, of science experiments that somehow caught fire. All those things were explained. I just always had very bad luck and managed to touch something I shouldn’t, even when I tried not to.
“The test came back showing you were extremely intelligent,” my father continues. “Off the charts, actually. But that didn’t explain the other things. So we decided we needed to foster your analytical abilities, channel that brain of yours toward something structured and stable.”
“You wanted to fix me.”
“We wanted to help you.” He sighs. “But it feels like you’ve spent your entire life fighting against anything structured. You graduated from college with top grades, Thatcher. You could have done anything. Yet you insist on being a starving artist.”
“Is financial success really that important?” I ask, the frustration building. “More important than happiness?”
“Happiness doesn’t pay bills.”
“Mom was happy. You were happy when she was alive. We were a happy family.” The words come out sharper than I intended. “When did money become more important than that?”
My father’s face changes, something cracking behind his composure. Before he can respond, my phone erupts with Alli’s ringtone.
“Sorry, Dad. I have to get this.”
He nods, so I answer the call.
“Meatball, I need you to come home right now.” Her voice is breathless, panicked. “Something really bad happened. I need help.”
My blood runs cold. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“Just come. Please. Hurry.”
I’m already standing. “I have to go, Dad. My friend is in trouble.”
My father looks at me, and for the first time in years, something softens in his expression. “Go. Help your friend.”
I’m halfway to the door when his voice stops me.
“Thatcher.”
I turn back.
“I’m sorry.” The words seem to cost him something. “Can we meet again soon? To finish this conversation?”
“Yes,” I say, surprised by how much I mean it. “We can.”
I’m sure I run more than a couple of red lights on the way home, my heart pounding with worst-case scenarios. Fire, flood, break-in, injury… Alli’s voice had been so scared. But when I reach our building, there’s no smoke, no emergency vehicles, no signs of disaster.
I take the stairs two at a time and try Alli’s door first. There’s a note taped to it in her handwriting: Your apartment. NOW.
Confusion replaces panic as I fumble with my keys. What the hell is going on?
I push open my door to find Alli standing in my living room, holding a small dog I don’t recognize. She looks completely calm, not a hair out of place.
“What’s going on? You said there was an emergency—”
She just shrugs, a smile playing at her lips. “Wait for it.”
Before I can demand an explanation, my door bursts open. Lex stumbles in first, followed by Adam, then Noah, and finally—
Pierce. With a cloth bag over his head.
“Special delivery!” Lex announces proudly.
“We got him!” Adam adds, slightly out of breath.
“For the record, I was against the bag. Bag hair is the worst,” Noah says. “But these two insisted on ‘authenticity.’”
“You kidnapped him?” I stare at my cousins in disbelief. “I told you no cousin interference!”
“Technically, this is cousin assistance,” Lex corrects. “Very different.”
“He put up a good fight,” Adam says admiringly. “Almost got away twice.”
“The second time was impressive,” Noah admits. “He’s surprisingly fast for someone in socks.”
I look at Pierce’s feet, happy to see that they at least helped him put some shoes on.
Pierce makes a muffled sound of indignation beneath the bag.
“Oh, right.” Lex reaches over and pulls the bag off Pierce’s head.
Pierce blinks in the sudden light, his hair disheveled. His eyes find mine, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.
“Well,” Alli says brightly, scratching the dog’s ears, “I think that’s our cue to leave. Come on, boys.”
“But I want to see what happens,” Lex protests.
Adam grabs his arm. “We’re leaving.
“Fine, but I expect a full report later,” Lex calls as Noah physically pushes him toward the door.
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving Pierce and me alone in my apartment. The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we haven’t said.
“I’m sorry about the kidnapping,” I finally manage. “I didn’t think they’d actually do it.”
“They were very determined.” Pierce straightens his hair, but his eyes never leave my face. “Why have you been avoiding my calls?”
“I needed to figure something out first.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” he says.
I take a deep breath. This is it. The moment I’ve been building toward since yesterday, since my cousins forced me to see what I’d been too scared to consider.
“Pierce, I—”
“Thatcher, I need to tell you—”
We both stop, staring at each other.
“You first,” I say.
“No, you.”
Another pause. Then, at exactly the same moment: “I’m quitting my job.”
The words hang in the air between us, identical and impossible.
“Wait,” I say. “What?”
“You’re quitting VSE?” Pierce asks at the same time.
“I’m going to take the job at my brother’s firm,” I explain, my heart racing. “I was against it initially, but that was before. I’ll do it if it means we can be together. But you, why are you quitting?”
“Don’t quit the job, Thatcher. You love it there. Even if it is only until you get your publishing deal.” Pierce steps closer, close enough that I can see the emotion swimming in his eyes. “You need to do something you love, and I’m sure the next CFO will love you as much as I do.”
I raise a brow. “Really?”
“Wait— No, that came out wrong. I will demand that Lior hire a woman. That’s the one.”
I laugh. “Okay, but why are you quitting?”
“Because I finally realized that no job is worth losing you. Because, Thatcher, you made me remember who I want to be.”
“Pierce…”
“I’m finally going to be an architect,” he continues, his voice gaining strength. “I’m going to start my own firm, focus on community projects. And I’m going to do it with you by my side, if you’ll have me.”
“If I’ll have you?” I laugh, the sound watery with tears I can’t hold back. “Pierce, I was ready to work with my smug brother and listen to my father’s ‘I told you so’ for the rest of my life just to be with you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He cups my face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears that have started to fall. “Stay at VSE. Keep the job you love. I’ll be the one who leaves.”
“But your career…? You’re going to quit, but then how about when I get my publishing deal?”
“Being a CFO was never my true dream. I convinced myself it was because I craved acceptance from my father, because I was good at it, and because I’m a competitive bastard who wanted to win.
” He kisses my cheek where he cleared my tears.
“You saw through me, and without even meaning to do it, you drew out of me a dream I thought I’d buried so deep it would never be realized.
You and your beautiful chaos and your art and your absolute refusal to be anything other than exactly who you are. ”
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too.” Pierce’s forehead rests against mine. “So much it terrifies me.”
“What do we do now?”
His smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Now? We stop running from this. We stop hiding.”
I close the distance between us and kiss him like I’ve been starving for a month. Because I have been. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer as his mouth opens under mine. He tastes like coffee, desperation, and everything I’ve been missing.
Pierce groans into the kiss, his hands sliding into my hair and tugging in that way that makes my knees weak. I press my body against his, needing to feel every inch of him, needing to remind myself that this is real, that he’s here, that we’re finally allowed to want this.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I gasp against his lips, my fingers working at his tie. “Every day, watching you in that office, not being able to touch you—”
“Torture,” he agrees, his mouth trailing fire down my neck. “Complete torture.”
I arch into him as his teeth graze that spot below my ear that makes me see stars. “Pierce…”
“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against my skin.
“You. Always you.” I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, which are dark with desire. “We can hide a little while longer, can’t we? Just for tonight?”
His answering smile is pure sin. “I thought you’d agree we should stop hiding.”
“We will. Tomorrow.” I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Tonight, I just want you in my bed. Making up for lost time.”
Pierce doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands grip my thighs, and he lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me toward my bedroom. I attack his neck with my mouth, sucking marks into his skin that he won’t be able to hide tomorrow.
He navigates my small apartment with impressive coordination, considering I’m doing my best to distract him. When we finally tumble onto my bed, his body covering mine, I feel complete for the first time in a month.
“I love you,” I say again because I can. Because I never have to stop saying it.
“I love you too.” Pierce’s eyes are soft as he looks down at me. “Now let me show you how much.”