TWENTY-TWO
Nate
W hen I open my eyes, it’s almost dawn, and my arm is still draped across Rose’s warm body. She’s on her back now, her arm is laid lazily above her head, and her hair is splayed across her pillow, catching the dim light that filters through the curtains.
She’s so beautiful I wonder how I can possibly call her mine. I love those long lashes laying gently on her cheeks, and the way her full lips are parted as she breathes evenly. She’s revealed her heart so genuinely over the last few weeks, and I can’t wait to learn more.
Last night was… perfect .
I’ve been ready to take this step for a while now, but I wanted this to be her decision. I needed to see in her eyes that she was ready too. And last night, those eyes didn’t lie. Deep and blue, they looked like they might combust if I didn’t make a move, and that’s all the reason I needed.
As Rose’s chest rises and falls slowly under my arm, I wonder how this is the girl who’s stealing my heart. This girl who crossed her arms and pouted when it took me three days to fix her ceiling. This girl who I doubt ever touched a chicken until the blizzard drove her to my home. She’s the one I’m falling for. She’s the last person I ever expected, yet, it feels so right, I’m starting to believe maybe this was all meant to be.
I can still remember the feel of Amber’s frail hand holding mine near the end. It was early dawn, like it is now. Just the faint glow of morning sun shone through the window when she looked up at me with those fading brown eyes.
“I love you, so much, Nate. And I know…I know you will always love me. But you need to move on and love someone else too. I need you to keep an open mind, and I need you to be happy, more than anything. So, please find someone who will make your life complete again. Find someone who will love you, and love Kara too.”
She lifted her shaking hand to my heart in that moment and closed her eyes with a smile.
“Don’t be afraid I’ll resent you for moving on. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. Go, and love with this beautiful heart.”
I close my eyes here in my bed and lift my own hand to my heart, right where Amber touched it. Rose held her hand there too last night when I paused above her. The fact that Rose touched me in the same place at such a vulnerable moment solidified my decision to finally move forward. Coincidence or not, it was the sign I needed.
And with that touch, my heart is breaking open again.
Rose stirs next to me, peeking up from beneath her lashes, and when she sees that I’m awake, she curls into me and buries her face in my chest.
I pull her into me and kiss the top of her head. “How did you sleep?”
“Really good,” she murmurs against my skin. “You?”
“Best I’ve slept in a long time.” I slide my fingers through her hair and watch the light from behind the curtains grow brighter with the rising sun.
She snuggles in closer. “You’re so warm. I don’t think I’m going to want to sleep by myself anymore.”
“It’s a curse.”
Adorable, sleepy eyes peer up at me. “What? Being warm?”
“Yeah, I’m hot like…all the time.” It’s true. In the winter, it’s great, but during the summer, I’m miserable.
“My own personal furnace.” She grins and kisses my neck.
“So, what do you want to do today?” I let my fingers untangle from her hair and trail them down the smooth skin of her arm.
“I thought we were going on a hike?” she asks.
I lean back and study her carefully. “You sure you want to?”
Her expression says she’s hesitant, but she nods. “Yep, I want the full experience.”
“It’s an easy hike,” I assure her. “Want some coffee first?”
“Yes, please.” She nods as I slide my arm out from under her and make my way to the kitchen.
In the living room, Duke sits up immediately when he sees me, and I give him a quick scratch behind the ears before I brew two cups. I peer out the large window at the back of the cabin. There’s a gentle fog lying on the surface of the lake, and a blue heron flies close to the water, sending the fog swirling. I close my eyes and take a slow breath. I love it here. I’ll never grow tired of peace, and quiet, and space .
When I return to the bedroom, Rose is sitting up and facing me squarely with crossed legs. “So, um, I’ve wanted to ask you…”
I hand her a mug and sit on the edge of the bed, waiting.
“My family is getting together for dinner on Tuesday.” She peers cautiously at me. “Would you like to come?”
Her offer catches me off guard and I blink at her for a moment. “Really? Are you sure?”
She nods and turns her mug around in her hands. “Yeah, I don’t want to keep you a secret anymore. I’ve never wanted that. It was just…necessary for a while.” She drops her eyes.
“I get it.” I reach out and take her hand. “But yes, I’d love to come to dinner.”
She takes a deep breath like she’s glad she finally got this out, but she grits her teeth. “Just…prepare yourself.”
I laugh lightly. “What, are they going to order me to leave when they find out how much I make?”
Her saddened eyes meet mine. “No, but just…don’t take too much of what they say to heart. They might say some…passive-aggressive things."
I know she’s trying to protect me, and I appreciate it, but I hardly think it’ll be as bad as she says. I squeeze her hand and give her a reassuring smile. “I can handle it.”
***
My hands are sweating against an expensive bottle of wine when Rose pushes open the door to her parents’ penthouse home, revealing a large marble foyer lit with a modern crystal chandelier. I don’t manage this building, but I’m impressed. From the bright downstairs lobby to the mirrored elevators and burgundy-carpeted hallways, it’s spotless and perfectly maintained.
“Mom?” Rose crosses the foyer and peers around the corner.
“Rose!” I hear the familiar voice before she reveals herself. Her mother’s hair is pulled into a soft twist at the back of her head, and she wears a flowing silk dress the color of a cloudless sky. Effortlessly styled and poised, just like her daughter.
She kisses Rose’s cheek and then turns her eyes to me, dragging them down to my shoes—the same brown oxfords I wore on my first date with Rose—and then back up again. She smiles, so apparently, I’ve passed the visual test. "Nate? Right? It's so nice to finally meet you.”
I’ve met her twice, actually. Most recently when I fixed Rose’s ceiling.
I extend my hand to her. “It’s great to meet you too, Mrs. Astor.”
She shakes my hand and then waves me off. “Oh, call me Cynthia, please.”
I nod and pass her the wine. “This is for you and your husband. Thank you for having me.”
She turns it around in her hands and her eyes light up. “Oh! It’s the ninety-two!” She looks so much like Rose. She’s a little shorter and her hair is a few shades lighter, but her eyes are strikingly the same. She turns toward the doorway from where she’d come. “Des! They brought the ninety-two!” Then her gaze finds mine again. “Thank you, so much. This is perfect.”
Of course, it is. I asked Rose specifically which wine was her parents’ favorite. I wasn’t going to take my chances there.
Rose’s father comes around the corner and shoves his hands in his pockets with a nod to Cynthia. “What’s this?”
She passes him the wine. “Rose’s friend brought us the ninety-two from Bordeaux.”
Friend? Interesting.
Rose doesn’t say anything, so I swallow my correction and extend my hand to her father. “You have a beautiful home, Mr. Astor.”
He’s taller than me, with salt and pepper hair, and a confidence he’s probably perfected over the years of owning such a profitable company. I’ve actually never met him in person. He wasn’t at the contract meeting years ago, but we have the occasional strictly business correspondence through email.
“Call me Desmond.” He firmly shakes my hand. “Rose’s friend? Just a friend?”
Rose links her fingers with mine and finally speaks. “Nate and I have been dating for a few weeks. I told you that, Mom.”
Cynthia shrugs and gestures for us to follow her. “Oh yes, right. Must have slipped my mind.”
Rose takes a deep breath and shoots me an apologetic gaze, but I smile warmly at her. She’s trying, and I know this isn’t easy for her, but it isn’t her fault if her mother chooses to conveniently forget this is a thing.
“Come, find a seat. Dinner is almost ready. We’re eating on the terrace tonight.” Cynthia leads us through the living room and out an expansive set of French doors to a balcony large enough to fit a seating area and a long table set for at least ten.
The breeze that comes with being forty floors up hits me immediately, and my hands start to sweat, but Rose quickly pulls me toward a chair away from the railing.
An older woman in an apron emerges from the doorway as we sit down, and she smiles warmly at me as she places a tray of fancy bruschetta on the table. “You must be Nate?”
“Yes,” I reply, extending my hand.
She takes it in both of hers, which are wrinkled and aged, but so warm and gentle.
“This is Helene,” Rose says. “She’s been my parents’ housekeeper since I was little.”
“It’s great to meet you, Helene.”
She slides over to Rose and gives her a quick hug. “How was your trip, sweetie?”
“Where’d you go, Rose?” A man with messily tousled dark hair, who looks a little familiar, steps out onto the terrace and grabs a piece of bruschetta from the tray.
“I spent the weekend at Nate’s place up on the lake.” She leans into me. “Nate, this is my brother, Henry.”
Cynthia is pouring the wine already. “Which lake?”
“Mille Lacs,” I reply as I shake Henry's hand.
“Oh!” She pauses to clasp her hands together. “It’s so beautiful up there. My brother has a place on three acres. Absolutely panoramic views of the water.”
I take a breath. “I really enjoy the seclusion.”
She nods. “Always great to get away from the city.”
Henry sits down, leans back, and crosses his arms, studying me. “How’d the two of you meet?”
“Online,” Rose responds before I have the chance to say we met in their building when the pipe burst. I actually can’t remember which came first.
“Seems like that’s the new thing these days,” he sighs, taking a swig of wine.
Rose tuts as Helene slips back out of the room. “Online dating has been around for like, at least ten years, Henry.”
He shrugs. “Call me traditional, I guess. I’d never do it. But I’m really happy it seems to have worked for the two of you.”
“Nate, have some bruschetta.” Cynthia points toward the tray. “Helene’s recipe is like no other.”
I smile as I take a piece. “So, tell me, what makes the ninety-two so special? Rose told me it was your favorite, but I’ll be honest, my wine knowledge is lacking.”
She picks up the bottle and turns it around happily in her hands. “The weather that year in Bordeaux was just perfect . Des and I were there on our honeymoon.” She smiles softly at him. “The grapes were the sweetest I’ve ever tasted. We bought a bottle and drank it as we watched the sun set over the vineyard.” She peers over the railing at the sun that’s starting to hang low in tonight’s sky. “Now we always try to pick up a ninety-two whenever we can.”
Desmond returns her sentiment and nods. “It was a fantastic trip.” He closes his eyes. “I still miss that Bugatti…”
“Weaving through all those quaint little city streets. Dining on crepes and lemon tarts…” Cynthia sighs.
“You know,” Desmond says, opening his eyes and pulling out his phone, “I saw one listed in Chicago just yesterday. Looks just like the one we drove. Thinking of maybe trading in the Aston finally. Never really liked it to begin with.”
Over his shoulder, someone else walks out, and I immediately recognize it as Rose’s other brother, George. The one who’s set to become CEO. He stands taller than Henry and combs his hair neatly back.
“Not the McLaren, Dad?” He eyes me carefully as he sits down, recognition sweeping across his face.
“Blasphemy!” Desmond shakes his head with a laugh. “You’ll have to pry those keys out of my cold, dead hands.”
George nods in my direction. “Nate.”
I smile. “Good to see you, George.”
“Oh, you’ve met?” Cynthia sits forward.
Rose tenses and George’s gaze flicks to hers and narrows briefly before he looks at his mother again. “Rose introduced us last week.”
It isn’t the truth, and I furrow my brow slightly. Has she asked him to keep my identity a secret? He knows I work on the building. He was there when the ceiling leaked, and again when the thermostat broke.
Desmond is still on his phone. “Oh wow, there’s an F40 for sale just down the street. And look at that low mileage…”
I still in my seat, suddenly realizing George might be the only one here who knows who I actually am.
“I think one Ferarri is enough, dear.” Cynthia shakes her head as she says it so nonchalantly, like buying Ferarris is as simple as buying groceries.
Desmond lifts his eyes from his screen to look at me. “What do you drive, Nate?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat and clear my throat. This is not going to go over well. “I drive a Ford, sir.”
“Oh? A GT?” he asks. “I saw one just down the street yesterday. What a beauty.”
“No.” I shake my head. “An F-150.”
He holds my gaze for a moment like he’s wondering if I’m joking. But no, I am not.
When he realizes that disappointing truth, he nods and brushes a crumb from his lap. “Nothing like a good, reliable American-made pickup.”
“My dad’s a mechanic,” I add. “I almost got into the business myself. I have a healthy appreciation for the automotive world.” I point toward his phone. “The F40 is an incredible piece of machinery.” And I’m not making this up. I actually am into cars, though certainly not as much as Desmond.
Cynthia sets her wine glass down slowly in my periphery and glances at Rose. Desmond looks taken aback, and I know it’s not because of the car I drive. It’s because I told him my dad’s a mechanic. I come from absolutely no money, and it’s clear now that no one knew this. But he recomposes himself quickly and nods. “Very true. Though, it’s nothing to my McLaren. Best car ever built.”
“What do you have?” I ask, without a beat. “I saw a Senna once here downtown. But…” I rub my chin. “I take you as an F1 man.”
He grins and points his finger at me. “Ha! You know your stuff. Yeah, I’ve got an F1 down in the garage. Got it for an absolute steal back in ’99.”
“I’d love to see it someday.” I take a drink and lean back in my chair, draping my arm around the back of Rose’s.
She’s sitting perfectly still, staring at her mother, and she wants to disappear, I can tell. I want to be angry with her for not briefing her parents at all about who I am, but I’m mostly just disappointed. She’s afraid they won’t accept me. Won’t accept her . I knew it was bad, but not this bad. I’m not sure what she thought was going to happen tonight. She must’ve known it would all come out eventually.
“Mom, can I pour you some more wine?” Rose asks, reaching for the bottle.
Cynthia ignores her, eyeing me closely. “So, Nate, what do you do for work?”
“I manage several buildings in Minneapolis, along with a team of employees I oversee.”
She tries and fails to appear impressed. “Oh? Would I know any of the buildings?”
Rose drops her forehead to her hand and massages it slowly.
I take a deep breath and hold Cynthia’s gaze. “Yes, actually. I manage Astor Tower.”
The terrace goes silent. George lowers his eyes to the table, Henry pauses with bruschetta in his hand, Helene peers through the doorway, and Cynthia looks back and forth between me and Desmond, who furrows his brow.
“I thought…” She hesitates. “I thought Joe managed our building.”
“Joe is my employee,” I correct her. “He’s assigned to your building, but I own the company as a whole. Hale Property Management.”
Desmond blinks quickly and shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’m confused…have we met?”
I smile genuinely at him. “You and I haven’t, actually. But I did meet your wife when she signed the contract three years ago, and just recently again when the pipe burst above Rose’s ceiling.”
Cynthia’s mouth hangs open for a moment before she tries to pull it together and smile. “Oh my goodness, yes, I can’t believe I forgot. I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you. I…thank you for your work on that.”
“It’s no problem,” I reply simply.
“I thought you met online?” Henry interjects.
“We did.” I agree. “Right around the same time we also met in your building.”
“ Rose ,” Cynthia hisses, leaning across the table. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m so embarrassed I don’t even know my own building manager.” She covers her eyes.
I hold up my hands before Rose can open her mouth. “It’s really ok. I try to stay behind the scenes as much as I can.”
There’s a long, painful pause, during which no one speaks until Helene comes through the door with a serving tray full of food.
“Pesto chicken, grilled yellow potatoes, roasted cherry tomatoes, grilled asparagus with truffle parmesan…” She lists off the plates as she arranges them on the table. “Enjoy.” She smiles warmly and heads back inside.
“So, your father is a mechanic,” Desmond says as he slowly selects a piece of chicken, having apparently recovered from the shock. “What about your mother?”
I spoon some potatoes onto my plate. “She stayed home with me when I was a kid. She occasionally picked up a few hours at the local deli slicing meat, but only when we needed the extra cash.”
Cynthia is cutting her asparagus quietly, methodically.
“Do your parents live in the area?” George asks.
“No, they’re back in Wisconsin where I grew up.”
“What brought you to Minneapolis?” Henry asks.
I hold my tongue when I remember the decision Amber and I made together to move here. I’d bet a large sum that none of Rose’s family knows I’ve been married or that I have a daughter. And tonight’s probably not the night to reveal that.
“I had a friend here with connections in the property management industry, so I took the leap.”
“So, Rose,” Cynthia turns to her daughter. “What did the two of you do at the lake?”
Rose has put two cherry tomatoes and a small slice of chicken on her plate, but she hasn’t touched any of it.
“We, uh. Well, Nate has a canoe, so we went out on the water.” She gulps. “And we went hiking.”
Henry raises an amused brow. “ You went hiking?”
Rose nods.
Henry eyes me with a sympathetic smirk. “Sorry, man.”
I chuckle. “Seemed to me like she enjoyed it.” When I turn to her, she hesitates before peering up at me with all kinds of guilt written on her face, like she expects me to get angry with her right here in front of her family.
“I’ve hardly seen you step off the pavement, Rose.” Cynthia stirs her food on her plate. “I certainly hope you didn’t wear those Pradas I just bought you. I can’t imagine trying to get the mud out of—”
“I wore hiking boots, Mom,” Rose interjects. “I’m not dumb. And yes, I…had fun.”
Cynthia looks up and locks eyes with her daughter. “So, the two of you…” Her gaze flicks to mine. “You’ve been seeing each other for how long?”
“Almost two months,” Rose replies firmly.
“It’s pretty serious, then?” Cynthia plasters on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.
Jeez, this is worse than I thought.
“I mean…” Rose shrugs. “We’re exclusive if that’s what you mean.”
“Where do you live?” Cynthia asks me.
“Silver Creek,” I reply, and when she looks confused, I add, “It’s just past Monticello.”
She sets down her glass of wine and turns to Rose. “Oh, it was Nate you stayed with during the storm?” She’s finally putting it all together.
Rose nods. “Yes, but that was before we were dating.”
“Nothing like being snowed in together to spark a romance,” Henry mutters into his napkin with a smirk.
“That’s over an hour away, isn’t it?” Cynthia ignores him.
“Just under an hour, actually,” I correct.
“That must be difficult for the two of you.” She gestures between Rose and me. “To live so far apart.”
“It hasn’t been an issue.” I take a bite of my meal. “I’m in the city most days for work.”
“What color was the Senna you mentioned you saw?” Desmond cuts in. His mind is clearly still ten minutes back in our conversation. So, maybe I’ve won him over, at least.
“I think it’s called…Victory Grey?” I rub my chin, pulling the name from deep in my memory bank.
“Yes!” He grins. “That was my cousin, then. It’s a beautiful car, isn’t it?
“Gorgeous,” I agree, catching a glimpse of Cynthia out of the corner of my eye. She purses her lips and leans back to assess me.
“What’s your five-year plan, Nate?” she asks with a raise of her brow.
She’s trying to get me to stumble, but I’m prepared for this one. I smile at her and easily dive into the goals I have for my future, carefully leaving Kara out.
Cynthia pesters me with passively judgmental questions for the rest of the meal, Desmond quizzes me on car knowledge—and I do quite well, thank you, Henry makes the occasional joke, George remains mostly quiet, and Helene beams at both Rose and me every time she enters the terrace.
We’re offered the opportunity to stay and chat in the “parlor” after dinner, but Rose is quick to decline and say she has to get home and finish some reports before work in the morning. So, the evening ends after barely more than an hour.
“Oh, by the way, Rose,” Cynthia says as we head for the door. “Malcolm told me he thinks he left his jacket in your office on Friday. Says he put it on the back of his chair while the two of you had lunch.”
I tense. She had lunch with her ex? Why didn’t she tell me?
Rose’s shoulders fall with a long sigh. “I didn’t see it today.”
“Well, check again tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll let him know he can stop by and—”
“NO. Mom.” Rose takes a deep, calculated breath. “I’ll check.” Then she tugs me further toward the door.
“It was lovely to meet you, Nate,” Cynthia smiles at me, but it doesn’t touch her eyes.
“Thank you for dinner.” I barely get a chance to say it because Rose is already pulling us into the hall and shutting the door.
She rushes to the elevator, but I stroll casually in her wake until I come to stand next to her silent figure and watch her push the button for the ground floor. The doors slide open and we both step in. Then we drop 1, 2…5…9 floors before I speak. “So—”
“I’m so sorry,” she groans, shaking her head.
I press my lips together while I watch the floors continue to tick down. “Did you tell them anything about me before tonight?”
She drops her head to her hand. “I told my mom a little. I didn’t lie. I promise. I just…” she sighs, “left some things out.”
The doors open and I stare into the lobby, clenching and unclenching my jaw as I try to decide how I’m going to react to this. A part of me wants to lash out a little and tell her how disrespectful she was for putting me in this situation, but I hold my tongue. The way her mother treated her this evening has me realizing why she was so afraid to bring me into the picture, and we need to talk about that first.
“Let’s walk,” I say, finally stepping out of the elevator.
She follows me as I nod politely at the doorman who lets us out onto the street. Rose’s building is only a block away and we’re already halfway there before she speaks again.
“I shouldn’t have put you through this…” She looks at the ground as we walk. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“What did you think was going to happen?” I ask. “Did you really think they weren’t going to ask what I do for a living? That’s one of the first questions parents ask their daughter’s boyfriends.”
“No, I know.” She comes to a stop in front of the park next to her building. It’s the one we walked through on our first date. It seems so long ago. She peers carefully at me. “It’s almost nine. Do you need to get home to Kara?”
I hold her gaze for a long moment. “Don’t you want to talk about this?”
She pushes her hair from her face and shakes her head. “I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Neither do I right now. That’s why we need to talk,” I reply resolutely.
She wrings her hands, sighs, and then gestures toward her building. “So, do you want to come up?”
I shove my hands in my pockets and nod.
Our ride up the elevator is as quiet as the previous descent. Rose is a shell of herself, and I entirely believe she has no idea how to fix this, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. This is the first time we’ve hit a bump in the road, and if I learned one thing from my previous relationships, and especially my marriage, it’s not to let an argument fester.