20. Magnolia Steel
Chapter 20
Magnolia Steel
We pull up to the house, and I stare, gobsmacked, as the sprawling estate comes into view. Nestled among lush greenery, the house is bathed in soft golden sunlight, its grand yet unpretentious design exuding a welcoming warmth. It’s the kind of place that could easily grace the pages of a magazine.
“Well, shit a brick and build a house with it!”
JC chuckles, glancing over at me. “Don’t hold back, Charleston. Tell me how you really feel.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “What do your friends do for work again?”
“Jack owns several vineyards across Australia and New Zealand. Laurelyn’s in the music industry—a songwriter for country artists.”
“Oh right.” I nod as it clicks. “She’s the one who used to be a big country-music star, isn’t she?”
“That’s right. And she also runs a nonprofit called Healing Melodies. It’s a foundation that uses music therapy to help kids, especially those dealing with tough family situations, like parents struggling with addiction.”
“All that while raising four kids? They must have their hands full all the time.”
“That’s putting it mildly. But somehow, they make it work. You’ll see—they’re incredible.”
This is a side of his world I haven’t seen before, and from what he’s told me, Jack and Laurelyn are more than friends—they’re family. Letting me into this part of his life feels significant, like he’s opening a door to something deeper.
As we approach the front door, I steal a glance at him, the question slipping out before I can think better of it. “Do they know all about our… situationship ?”
His grin comes easy, amusement lighting up his face. “They know, and there’s zero judgment. Promise. They’ve been where we are, so they understand exactly what’s happening between us.”
Relief washes over me, smoothing out the tension. “So I can talk to Laurelyn about it?”
“Absolutely. Ask her anything. She’s been in your shoes, and I know she’ll tell you the truth.”
I think about Violet, the one who’s been with me through so much, always ready to listen. But she’s thousands of miles away, too far to see what’s unfolding here or fully grasp the strange, unexpected connection JC and I have built. It’s hard to put into words, even for myself sometimes. With Laurelyn, though—someone who’s lived this kind of whirlwind—I won’t have to explain it at all.
JC reaches out, his hand giving mine a brief but steady squeeze before we enter the McLachlan home. Together, we step into a space that feels like a breath of fresh air—a kind of comfort where our situationship doesn’t feel quite so complicated.
The rich scent of aged wood and something faintly floral greets me as we cross the threshold. Warm lighting spills across the room, highlighting the soft gleam of polished surfaces and the subtle charm of framed family photos on the walls. There’s a faint hum of music just loud enough to blend into the background.
“Jack! Laurelyn!” JC calls out, his voice carrying easily through the open space.
“Hey.” Laurelyn appears from around the corner, her smile bright and genuine as she strides forward, her arms already outstretched. She wraps JC in a warm hug first, patting his back as she pulls away with a beaming grin. “It’s so good to see you.”
JC steps aside, his hand gesturing toward me. “Laurelyn, this is Charleston.”
Her gaze shifts to me, her smile widening as she steps closer. She pulls me into a hug that’s firm and welcoming. “Charleston, we’re so glad you’re here.” Her easy, natural embrace instantly melts away any nerves I’ve been holding on to.
Jack follows behind her, his handshake strong and steady, followed by a quick pat on JC’s shoulder. “Made it just in time. Hope you’re ready for a feast.”
Laurelyn steps closer, her arm looping through mine with an ease that feels natural. “Come on, let me show you around.”
She moves gracefully through the space, pointing out small details—a photo here, a piece of art there—each accompanied by a story that feels like an invitation into her world. I follow her to a gallery wall filled with framed photos, my gaze catching on one in particular. It’s a wedding picture—Laurelyn and Jack, radiating happiness, surrounded by friends and family. But it’s not them that stops me.
“Wait a second.” I lean in closer, my finger hovering near the image. “Is that… Jake Beckett? He came to your wedding?”
Laurelyn glances at the photo, her lips curling into a wry smile. “Only because he’s my sperm donor.”
My head jerks back, and I stare at her, my jaw practically on the floor. “Your father is Jake Beckett? As in the Jake Beckett? Legendary country-music star, that Jake Beckett?”
“Yep,” she says, popping the p in a way that’s almost dismissive. “Don’t be too impressed.” Her expression tightens. “He’s an asshole.”
I blink, her words sinking in. The casual way she says it makes it hit even harder, like it’s a truth she’s long since come to terms with. My thoughts spiral, pulling me back to my own life, my own father.
I know what it’s like to have an asshole for a parent, but at least Jake Beckett doesn’t sound like mine. Whatever mistakes he’s made, I doubt they include dragging his daughter into dangerous messes or insisting she lock her door at night in order to stay safe from the fallout of his bad choices.
The thoughts stick, heavy and unresolved, like they always do when my father crosses my mind. I glance at Laurelyn, wondering what stories she carries about Jake Beckett, how she manages to talk about him so matter-of-factly. “I get it. I have my own version of an asshole for a father.”
Laurelyn’s gaze meets mine, a faint understanding passing between us before she gestures to another photo, shifting the conversation back to something lighter. But my thoughts loom, a quiet storm beneath the surface, one I’m not willing to share.
Jack picks up a wineglass, filling it with the last of what remains in the bottle. “Here you go, Charleston. The good stuff. Guaranteed to make you feel like part of the family—or at least tolerate us until dessert.” He raises his own glass in a playful toast, his humor tugging a smile from me.
The gesture is casual and welcoming, easing the knot of nerves in my chest a little more.
“You have a beautiful home.” My eyes travel to the high ceilings and open layout. The understated elegance is warm and inviting; nothing about it feels overly showy.
“Thank you,” Laurelyn says. “I really do love it here. This home has so much of our story in it—it’s where we’ve built our life, raised our kids, and made so many memories. It’s different from living in the U.S., but I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”
Jack claps JC on the shoulder, grinning. “First things first, mate. Let’s hit the wine cellar and find another bottle of vino.”
JC flashes me a quick wink before following Jack, leaving me alone with Laurelyn. I take a steadying breath, surprised at how nervous I’d been on the drive here. Those nerves, though, are beginning to fade.
Laurelyn moves with grace around the kitchen, finishing the final touches on the meal. There’s no staff bustling about, no air of formality—just a wife and mother in her element, creating a space that feels warm and authentic. It’s comforting in a way I didn’t expect, and to my surprise, I feel at ease, like I truly belong here.
She glances up, catching my eye with an easy smile, the kind that instantly makes you feel welcome. “Just so you know, we’re not formal around here. Relax, make yourself at home. If you feel like jumping in, go for it—if not, no pressure. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Honestly, I was a little nervous, but you’ve made tonight feel really easy.”
“Good. That’s what we’re about here—no pressure, no expectations, just family.” She sets a dish on the counter, brushing her hands on a towel before glancing back at me, a playful spark lighting her expression. “And speaking of family––” Her smile widens mischievously. “I told the kids you two are playing a little game, and they’re supposed to call him Julius Caesar while you’re here. But they’re kids, so who knows how long they’ll actually stick to it.”
I laugh, taking a sip of the wine Jack poured for me.
She raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge dancing in her gaze. “Are you ready to learn his real name if one of them lets it slip?”
“It wouldn’t be the end of the world if they slipped up. The alias thing is for fun. What we have is about making the most of the time we’ve got while I’m here in Australia.”
She nods, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “You’re okay with not knowing more about him?”
I pause, considering the possibility. “I know he’s someone well-known in the public eye. That’s not something he can hide, but I actually like the mystery. Even if I learn his real name tonight, it won’t change anything for me.”
Understanding crosses her expression. “This all takes me back to when Jack Henry and I first met. I’m sure you’ve heard we had our own little arrangement when we started seeing each other.”
I grin, feeling an easy camaraderie settle between us. “JC told me all about it. Your arrangement has definitely been an inspiration for us.”
“Well, I hope you’re enjoying your time together as much as we did. Those early days were something special. Unforgettable, really.”
Laurelyn laughs, nostalgia lighting her eyes. “I found out Jack Henry’s real name completely by accident. There was a medical emergency with his father, and I was unexpectedly thrown into the middle of the McLachlan family. When we arrived at the hospital, his mother called him Jack Henry, and to cover the fact that I didn’t know his real name, I called him that too.” She grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “His mother nearly lost it because she was the only one who ever called him that. She took it as a sign he must love me if he let me get away with it. And, well, he’s been my Jack Henry ever since.”
I smile, charmed by the tale. “Such a great start to your love story.”
She nods, her laugh soft and warm. “Like you, we had aliases when we first met. His was Lachlan, after McLachlan, and mine was Paige—my middle name. It was supposed to keep things uncomplicated, at least in the beginning.” She shrugs, her smile softening. “But it didn’t stay that way for long. Complicated snuck in pretty quickly—but it was the best kind of complicated.”
“Has he told you how we came up with our aliases?”
“He did, but I have to tell you––Julius Caesar doesn’t suit him at all to me.”
I laugh with her, shaking my head. “I’ve started calling him JC. It fits better.”
Her eyes warm with amusement. “It’s funny how those things take on a life of their own. Makes it all the more special.”
“Exactly! Our aliases are tied to this little bubble we’ve created. It’s silly, I know, but it’s meaningful in its own way.”
“It’s not silly.” Laurelyn takes a sip of her wine, her gaze thoughtful. “So, how far along are you two in this three-month arrangement?”
“About a month in.” I’m surprised by the unexpected pang I feel at how quickly the first four weeks have flown by.
“That’s when the real fun starts—the awkward newness has worn off, and you finally get comfortable with each other.”
“So true.”
It’s so nice to have someone to talk to who understands where I am. This isn’t exactly the kind of situation you can explain to just anyone.
“The next two months are going to fly by, trust me. Before you know it, your time together will be up. So, make the most of it. Enjoy every moment.”
Her words strike a quiet chord, settling into the part of me that’s been avoiding thoughts about how fleeting this arrangement is. But before the reality of it can fully settle, Jack and JC emerge from the wine cellar, each carrying a bottle and wearing easy smiles, their presence shifting the mood to something lighter.
Jack grins, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So, the emperor tells me you’re into some… unusual music?”
I place my hands on my hips, narrowing my eyes at JC with dramatic disapproval. “ Eclectic , not unusual. My playlist is highly curated, thank you very much.”
JC raises his hands in surrender. “Fair enough—I stand corrected.”
“I like a woman who’s passionate about her music,” Laurelyn says, raising her glass.
Jack leans back, a proud glint in his eye. “Speaking of music, did Caesar mention that my beautiful wife is a musician?”
“He might’ve mentioned it.”
Jack’s grin widens. “But I bet he left out the part where she was the original lead singer for Southern Ophelia.”
My jaw drops, my gaze snapping to Laurelyn. “Southern Ophelia? Are you kidding me?”
Jack chuckles, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Not kidding. She’s the real deal.”
I turn back to Laurelyn, a mix of awe and surprise on my face. “That’s incredible.”
Laurelyn waves it off with a modest smile, though there’s a sparkle in her eyes. “That was a lifetime ago, but it was definitely a wild ride.”
I tilt my head, studying her closely, and suddenly it clicks—the voice, the face. My mouth falls open. “Wait. I remember you.”
A melody springs to mind, and before I can stop myself, I’m humming the chorus of one of Southern Ophelia’s biggest hits. The lyrics flow naturally, spilling out in a low murmur as I mouth the words:
I’m waiting for your heart to wake
So you will ask me to stay.
My heart is impatiently waiting around
To hear the words it’s begging you to say.
I glance at Laurelyn, my eyes wide with realization. “That was you.”
“I wrote that song about Jack Henry.” She lets out a laugh, waving a hand as if to brush it off. “It feels like another life. I stopped performing years ago. Now, I write songs for other people—and wipe snotty noses.”
Even as she downplays it, there’s a quiet warmth in her expression, a glow that speaks of pride. And a twinge of awe settles in my chest.
Jack strides across the room with an easy grin, wrapping his arms around Laurelyn and pulling her close. “This amazing, gorgeous woman doesn’t give herself enough credit. Three of her songs have already hit the top 10 this year. And let me tell you, if she were the one performing them, they’d have gone straight to number one.”
“Jack Henry,” she says with a laugh, swatting his chest lightly, her cheeks tinged with a warm flush. “Stop it. Those days are long gone.”
She turns to me, her smile softening, raising her glass in a gesture that feels more like an invitation than a toast. “Maybe we’ll give the piano a workout later.”
I tap my glass gently to hers. “Now that’s something I wouldn’t miss.”
The four of us settle around the beautifully set table, and I feel a little spoiled by the care put into every detail. The soft glow of candles and the savory aroma of the meal create a cozy, inviting atmosphere. Just as conversation begins to flow, a loud thud echoes from upstairs, drawing Laurelyn’s attention. She glances up with a knowing smile.
“I asked the babysitter to keep the kids busy upstairs so we could have a little adult time.”
Jack chuckles, pouring more wine. “She’s probably up there running triage.”
Another thud follows, paired with muffled giggles and hurried footsteps. Laurelyn shakes her head, her smile widening. “See what I mean?”
JC leans in slightly, his words dropping to a playful murmur. “It’s always like this—basically, a circus on any given day.”
Jack grins, filling JC’s glass with wine. “But you have to admit, it’s a pretty cute circus.”
Laurelyn nods in agreement. “It’s a very cute circus.”
JC raises a brow, his gaze darting between them. “Sounds like you need another one to add to the fun.”
Without missing a beat, they both answer in unison, “No!” before bursting into laughter.
Jack shakes his head. “Have four of your own and then let me know if adding a fifth sounds like a good idea.”
JC chuckles. “Fair enough. I’ll take your word for it.”
We settle into the meal, and Laurelyn glances over. “Have you been able to get out and explore the city together?”
JC gives her a wry grin. “It’s tricky in Sydney. Too many eyes. You two probably understand that better than anyone.”
“What kind of things have you managed?” Jack asks.
“We’ve been to the Rabbit Hole a couple of times and took the yacht up to Newcastle for a weekend. We also went to Chloe’s restaurant—used the private dining room, of course. Honestly, we’ve spent most of our time in the penthouse.”
Jack and Laurelyn exchange an amused glance, the nostalgia practically visible in the softening of their expressions, as if they’re both replaying the early days of their story.
“Lots of eyes and wagging tongues in Sydney,” Jack says with a shake of his head. “I took L to the Sydney Opera House, and the paparazzi were shoving cameras in our faces before we even made it inside. The next day, our pictures were plastered everywhere.”
“I didn’t understand why on earth they were taking photos of us.” Laurelyn laughs, her eyes sparkling with the memory. “Oh my God, that was such a great night at the opera.”
Jack raises his glass, smirking as his gaze locks with hers. “An amazing night, if I remember correctly.”
The look they share feels layered, their words hinting at a story too personal, too deeply theirs to invite questions. It’s not about the opera; it’s about a moment in their history, one clearly meaningful enough to hold significance without further explanation. Whatever the story is, it belongs to them, and I decide not to press.
Jack chuckles, turning back to us. “It wasn’t long after that night when all the secrets came out. Once everything was in the open, our relationship changed. For the better.”
Laurelyn nods, her eyes lighting up with the glow of a cherished memory. “That’s when it went from fun to incredible. No more hiding in the shadows.”
Jack tilts his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Not that the shadows were so bad. I did enjoy having you all to myself.”
“True. But we had so much more freedom once we went public. And while the aliases were fun, things shifted once we knew each other’s real names. Everything changed.”
After a pause, she waves a hand, her expression softening, as if brushing away the nostalgia. “But enough about us.”
We finish dinner, and as I reach for a plate to help clear the table, Jack waves me off with a grin. “Don’t even think about it. The emperor and I have this covered. You ladies go relax. We’ll be there in a few.”
I glance at JC, who gives me an easy smile. “This won’t take long.”
“Fine, I’m not going to argue,” I say with a laugh, letting Laurelyn lead the way into the living room.
My attention is immediately drawn to the beautiful piano tucked into one corner. Its sleek black surface gleams under the soft lighting, exuding elegance. I wander over, lightly running my fingers along its polished edge. “This is stunning.”
She notices my interest and smiles. “Do you play?”
“Oh God, no. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Laurelyn settles onto the bench and lets her fingers brush gently over the keys. “I wasn’t sure.” She plays a few soft notes, “Julius Caesar mentioned you love music.”
I smile, watching the way her elegant long fingers move gracefully. “I do, but I didn’t grow up in the kind of family where music lessons were even a possibility. Let’s just say my lessons were a little more practical—and a lot less fun.”
She nods, her expression softening. “I understand that more than you can imagine. People assume I had this picture-perfect upbringing, but it wasn’t like that. There were struggles—maybe not the same ones you had but struggles all the same. Honestly, I didn’t know happiness until I met Jack Henry.”
A chill runs through me, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “That gives me goose bumps.”
She glances up, her eyes holding a knowing look. “Is that because you feel the same way about Julius Caesar?”
I glance toward the kitchen, making sure the guys are still occupied. “Maybe something like that.”
Laurelyn smiles, her eyes warm with understanding. “I know you didn’t come all the way here expecting to find a relationship on the other side of the world, but sometimes fate has other plans. And we don’t always get a say in it.”
Her words stir something deep inside me. I want to respond, but the truth feels too big to put into words right now. Instead, I offer a small smile, hoping it’s enough to convey that I understand exactly what she means.
Laurelyn seems to sense my hesitation and shifts gears with a warm smile. “What’s your favorite music?”
I relax as I lean against the piano. “Oh, definitely ’70s and ’80s. Occasionally, some ’60s. Some ’90s. “I’m a little all over the place.”
Her fingers glide over the keys, and within moments, the soft, familiar opening notes of “The Rose” fill the room. My eyes light up, and Laurelyn notices, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Know this one, do you?”
I nod, smiling. “Of course. It’s only one of the greatest songs ever written.”
“I agree. Come on, sing it with me.”
I laugh, shaking my head quickly. “Oh no. I could never sing with you.”
She waves a hand, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. “Nonsense. In this house, singing isn’t reserved for professionals. Everyone sings.”
Her playful insistence draws another laugh from me, and for a moment, I let the idea settle. Maybe—just maybe—I could give it a try. But for now, I simply listen, the music wrapping around me like an familiar old friend.
Laurelyn continues playing, and I notice a small figure peeking around the corner, her wide eyes fixed on us with quiet curiosity. Smiling, I lean in toward Laurelyn. “Looks like we have company.”
Laurelyn glances up, her face brightening as she spots the little girl. “You can come in, sweetheart.”
The girl dashes over and hops up beside her mom at the piano. “I heard you playing.”
Laurelyn wraps an arm around her, smiling down at her daughter. “We’re about to sing. Want to join us?”
The little girl nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
“This is our daughter, Maggie James. We call her MJ.”
I crouch slightly, meeting MJ’s bright, curious gaze. “Hi, MJ. Some of my friends call me Maggie.”
MJ’s eyes widen, her interest piqued. “I’m named after my grandmother Margaret. Is your real name Margaret?”
I glance around and then lean in as if revealing the juiciest gossip. “Well, between us girls… my real name is Magnolia.” With a playful wink, I press a finger to my lips. “But let’s keep that between us.”
Laurelyn leans in, her smile brimming with mischief. “Now that’s just for us girls to know. The boys can’t know—especially Uncle––” She catches herself with a soft laugh. “Uncle Julius .”
MJ’s face lights up, clearly thrilled to be part of an adult secret. “I won’t tell.”
I chuckle, leaning closer to MJ. “Good. We girls gotta stick together.”
Just as we finish sharing our little secret, Jack and JC step into the living room, their easy laughter breaking the quiet hum of the piano.
“Take a seat, gentlemen. You’re about to be thoroughly delighted,” Laurelyn says with a playful grin, her hands poised over the keys.
JC raises a brow, his mischievous grin aimed at MJ. “Sing nice and loud, MJ. You’ll need to carry Charleston—let’s just say delight isn’t the first word I’d use to describe her singing.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “ Rude … but fair.”
“We’re doing ‘The Rose,’” she announces, letting her fingers drift into the opening melody. She glances over at her daughter. “Think you remember this one?”
“I remember it, Mum!” MJ says, her enthusiasm lighting up the room.
As Laurelyn’s fingers dance over the keys, the three of us begin to sing. The music flows easily, and to my surprise, I don’t feel self-conscious at all. Singing with them feels natural, like being welcomed into something warm and familiar.
Laurelyn’s singing is breathtaking—deep and vibrant, carrying the melody with natural grace. MJ’s voice adds a youthful sweetness, and somehow, my less-than-perfect notes don’t feel out of place.
Midway through, I catch JC watching me. His gaze is steady, soft, and unwavering. It sends an awareness through me, a quiet wonder at what he might be thinking.
The lyrics take on an intensity I didn’t expect, resonating with something deep inside me. They speak of dormant love, fragile but enduring, blooming even in uncertain times. The way Laurelyn sings it, every note feels personal, almost like a promise whispered into the air.
As the final notes fade into the stillness, I find myself holding on to the moment. There’s a thought dwelling in the quiet—knowing JC’s true identity wouldn’t change this. If anything, it might make it even more extraordinary. But that decision isn’t mine to make.
For now, this is enough. The beauty of the unknown, wrapped in the warmth of music and connection, feels like everything I need.