Chapter 19
NATE
Friday rolled in with a strange, buoyant calm sitting in my chest, like I’d reached the crest of a roller coaster and could finally see the track laid out ahead of me.
Tonight was the night. For real this time. Third time lucky, right?
I was going to meet Emma face to face, and while this wasn’t the first time we’d had these kinds of plans, I was confident it was actually going to happen. The thought eased the restlessness that had been buzzing right beneath my skin for the last couple weeks.
If I could just see her, talk to her, and lay everything out, we’d be able to find a path through this mess. A solution that didn’t destroy anyone.
Me. Emma. Kate. Her boyfriend…
There had to be a version of this that didn’t leave any casualties behind. Emma, Kate, and I were all smart, mature people. It stood to reason her boyfriend was as well. Surely, between the four of us, we had to be able to come up with a way to keep moving forward.
As always, however, life threw a monkey wrench into my plans before I’d even finished my second cup of coffee. News of a possible merger between us, Kate’s firm, and Hinds detonated across every financial outlet before nine a.m.
By ten, our stock was climbing so aggressively, our analysts were scrambling to keep projections updated. I tried to focus on the numbers in front of me, but Alex’s voice carried through the partially open conference room door across the hall.
“If the government steps in, we’re going to have to adjust, but we can’t lose momentum.”
“Federal oversight will slow us down, Alex. You know that,” Will shot back. “Hinds’ portfolio touches too many sectors. It runs too deep. They’re going to crawl through every ledger we own and that’s going to take time.”
Their argument cut off as the door slammed shut, but I barely registered it. Oversight. Regulations. Government involvement. All important. All things I normally would’ve been knee deep into myself.
Instead, I found myself scrolling through the media coverage. The press had latched onto something a lot more entertaining than the logistics surrounding the actual merger.
Headlines screamed about a so-called rivalry between the Westwoods and the Vanderhaul family, painting decades of routine business competition like it was a blood feud. Analysts speculated on every channel, practically feverish with the thought that we were now working together.
Commentators dramatized our relationship with the Vanderhauls, half the articles reading like soap operas disguised as financial journalism. I snorted under my breath. Pete and my father had gone head-to-head on contracts plenty of times, but it was business. That was it.
There were no vendettas. No war between our families. In fact, until recently, Dad hadn’t even met the man face to face and Uncle Harlan and Pete were supposedly pretty friendly.
I’d never really followed the celebrity gossip involving my family. My brothers and my cousins out in California lived under a spotlight, but I’d always avoided it like the plague. We weren’t actors, or top athletes, or whatever other kinds of professions made people obsessed.
We were a normal family who ran a normal business that just so happened to be pretty damn successful. We were good at what we did and we did it diligently. That shouldn’t have warranted this kind of media attention.
Yeah. That’s enough of the circus for one day. I closed my laptop and raked my hands through my hair. My head needed to be clear for tonight.
On that note, I left early, ignoring the curious looks from assistants and analysts who weren’t used to seeing me walk out before sunset. When I got home, the quiet of my apartment was like a reset button.
I pulled off my tie, tossed my jacket over the back of a chair, and flipped on the television for background noise. Some random basketball game filled the screen, a replay of the game from last weekend, maybe. I didn’t care enough to check right now, too busy mentally rehearsing for tonight.
After grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, I tried to come up with a game plan for how I’d explain everything to Emma without sounding like I was trying to negotiate my way out of my feelings for her.
Just as I was finally getting my thoughts into a somewhat logical order, the game cut to a commercial break, then to breaking news.
At first, I barely paid attention, only vaguely aware of the financial ticker. Market updates. Standard end-of-week recap.
“…and in what could be one of the most aggressive corporate consolidations of the decade.” I glanced up absently and the anchor continued, her tone bright with unconcealed excitement.
“Rumors are now circulating that the merger between Westwood and Sons, Vanderhaul and Marksmith, and Hinds Global may include an unexpected personal alliance.”
The picture on the screen shifted and my brain stalled when my face appeared where the anchor’s had been.
It was a candid shot of me from probably about six months ago as I was leaving a charity gala.
They’d caught me in the moment between one step and the next, a paparazzi flash bleaching half the image.
“While neither family has confirmed the reports,” the anchor continued smoothly, “sources suggest that Nathaniel Westwood may be engaged to Katherine Vanderhaul.”
A picture of Kate popped up onscreen beside mine.
She was younger than we were now, standing in front of a university building.
It looked like they’d managed to get an old photo of her from back in college, smiling into sunlight with no idea that her future would one day become the subject of national speculation.
My pulse slammed into my throat, but the anchor just kept going. “This rumored engagement is being viewed by industry insiders as a strategic move that could solidify the merger—”
I muted the television, but the silence didn’t help. My ears were ringing, my pulse clawing at my insides like a raging tiger. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen.
It wasn’t meant to be public. Not before we’d even figured out how to survive it in private. Someone had leaked it and whoever had done it had just immediately earned a permanent place on my shit list.
On my next inhale, my thoughts landed on Kate. If I was blindsided, she had to be too. She’d barely been in the office all week, keeping communication strictly professional when it happened at all. I shoved my feet into my shoes, adrenaline sharpening every movement.
If she was home, I needed to talk to her.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and when I glanced at it, everything in me went ice cold.
Emma: I can’t meet tonight. I’m really sorry.
The words blurred, then snapped back into focus as I stared at the screen. I blinked hard, but the message remained the same and a bitter lump formed in my throat, my chest hollowing out in slow, precise increments.
Me: Why?
It felt too blunt, but I sent it anyway.
Three dots appeared. Danced. Disappeared.
Came back. Disappeared again. Aggravation rolled through me as I paced the length of my living room, the game still playing in the background, but my attention stayed locked on my phone.
The dots kept coming and going, appearing and disappearing until finally, a message appeared.
Emma: I’m nervous. There’s just a lot happening in my life right now.
I exhaled slowly, stopping in front of the windows and looking out at the skyline, wondering where she was right now. For a long minute, I just looked out at the familiar view, the snaking lines of cars in the traffic looking like dots trying to escape an urban maze.
Somewhere out there, the woman who might just be the love of my life was possibly pacing, feeling alone in a city where she had no one but me. Eventually, I managed to fire off a reply.
Me: I get that. Honestly, I feel the same. There’s a lot going on right now. If we don’t meet tonight, it’s okay.
But it wasn’t okay. I needed tonight. I needed to see her, to anchor this thing that had lived in texts and half-imagined futures for years. I needed to explain.
My thumbs hovered over the screen again. I need to talk to you about something.
I typed it, then stared at it with my stomach twisting as I imagined what she’d think when she received it. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be half as bad as the truth. Before I could send it, however, another message popped up.
Emma: Remember how we used to say we could run away together?
The question yanked me straight back through years of conversations, just two people building escape routes out of words and what-ifs. The impossible dream. I smiled slightly as I deleted my message and replied to hers instead.
Me: Always.
Her response came faster this time.
Emma: What if we did?
I sank onto the arm of the couch, my heart kicking an uneven rhythm against my ribs. Is she seriously asking me to run away with her?
The very idea of it should’ve sounded reckless and juvenile, but instead, a big part of me lurched toward it, latching on and refusing to let go, but then, completely uninvited, Kate’s face flashed through my mind and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Focus. This is Emma.
Emma, who knew my fears, my stupid habits, and the things that kept me awake at three in the morning. Emma, who had been on the other side of my phone for so long, I wasn’t even sure what I’d do with the fucking thing if I lost her. She knew everything about me except my name.
Not my real name. Only the screen name I’d used to join that Discord years ago.
She also didn’t know my family, or the weight that came with my last name, or about the business deals that followed us like storm clouds. She didn’t know my face or how completely her life would change if I actually let her into mine.
Kate did.
Kate knew exactly who I was and she still looked at me like I was someone she might be willing to stand beside instead of against. Eventually, anyway. I scrubbed a hand over my mouth, frustration clawing under my skin.
What the hell is wrong with me? This is Emma, you idiot. Focus. I mean it. I forced myself to stop thinking and start typing.
Me: Where would we even go?
The reply came after a long pause.
Emma: Anywhere. Somewhere new. Someplace no one expects us to be.
My pulse hammered harder, a strange clarity settling over me. I needed to see her. I needed reality to either match the years we’d built together or crack it wide open.
Me: Meet me at the Amtrak station. Tonight.
Another pause, but it was shorter this time.
Emma: You’re serious?
Me: Yeah. Now. Let’s just go.
I set the phone down before I could change my mind, the decision sending a jolt of pure energy through my bloodstream. This was easily the most reckless thing I’d ever done in my life, but it was necessary.
For as long as I had all these questions about Emma, I would never be able to move on.
Not even just romantically, but also with my life.
That was all I needed to know before I was on my feet, grabbing my wallet off the kitchen counter and shoving it into my back pocket.
I slid into my jacket without even bothering to fix my collar and jammed my feet into my shoes without going back for my socks.
Adrenaline rushed through me in sharp, electric bursts. Running away wasn’t my style. I fixed problems. I negotiated them into submission and I never backed down. I sure as hell didn’t abandon my entire life on a whim. But this was my last chance.
I yanked the door open, already reaching for my keys with my mind sprinting ahead to train schedules and how to keep this out of the media, but then I stopped dead.
Kate stood across the hallway in her own door, one hand gripping the frame and her hair hastily pulled back, loose strands falling around her face.
She wore leggings and an oversized sweater, her cheeks flushed and that whiskey-hued gaze brighter than I’d ever seen it.
I just couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or excitement.
Her eyes snapped to mine when my door opened, her chest rising like she’d run a marathon.
For a long, suspended second, neither of us spoke, just staring at each other across the way instead.
We were both half dressed, still shoving arms into coats, both breathless, and both looking like we were seconds away from bolting in opposite directions.
My heartbeat slammed against my ribs so loud, I swore she had to hear it echoing down the hall. Her gaze dropped briefly to the keys dangling from my fingers and her lips parted like she was about to say something, but then they pressed together again, uncertainty flickering across her features.
All I had to do was tell her good night and march to the elevator. The Amtrak station wasn’t even that far away. I could be there in minutes. But I didn’t move. I just looked into those golden hazel eyes and wondered why, suddenly, I didn’t think I wanted to.