Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Knox
I'm sitting in my hotel room in Boston on another night of my stay here, a glass of scotch in my hand.
The legal team has been calling all day with updates on the situation.
The injured contractor is stable. OSHA's investigation is ongoing but preliminary findings suggest we might avoid any major blowback.
Our insurance is covering the medical expenses and the family has agreed to hold off on filing suit while we work through the details.
It's progress. Not the resolution I wanted, but progress. I've been on calls with lawyers, adjusters, and safety inspectors all day. My head is pounding and the scotch isn't helping.
Tomorrow morning, I finally fly back to New York.
I set down the glass and reach for the newspaper sitting on the desk.
The New York Times. I picked it up in the hotel lobby earlier but haven't had time to read it.
I flip through the first few sections. Business news.
Politics. International affairs. Then I get to Page Six. I stop. The headline reads:
"Sterling Dynasty Heir Proposes to Interior Designer Girlfriend"
Below it is a photo; Rowan on one knee. Ring box open. Winter standing in front of him in a navy dress, her face visible in the shot. She doesn't look angry. She doesn't look upset. She just looks... there. I stare at the photo, my chest tightening.
The article is short. Just a few lines about Rowan Sterling, heir to Sterling Commercial, proposing to his girlfriend Winter Hayes at a charity gala on the Upper East Side.
It mentions her design firm, notes that she's worked on several high-profile projects, and ends with speculation about a potential wedding date.
I read it twice. Then I set the paper down and drain the rest of my scotch.
I feel gutted. Angry. Seething with rage at this image in front of me.
The headline calling her his girlfriend.
The fact that he did this publicly, dramatically, the way Rowan does everything.
But more than that, I feel something I haven't felt in years: Heartbroken.
I stand and walk to the window, staring out at the Boston skyline. Did she say yes? The article doesn't say. It just says he proposed. But the photo tells a story. And in that story, Winter is standing there while my brother kneels in front of her with a ring.
My phone rings on the desk behind me. I turn and look at the screen: Fletcher.
I answer. "Yeah."
"Hey, just got off the phone with the legal team. They said things are moving in the right direction with the contractor's family. Thought I'd check in and see how you're holding up."
"I'm fine."
Fletcher pauses.
"You sound like shit. And I know this whole situation is stressful, but it can't just be that. What else is going on?"
I look back at the newspaper on the desk. At Rowan's face. At Winter's.
"I'm looking at a picture of my brother proposing to Winter," I say flatly.
"Oh, shit." Fletcher's voice shifts.
"Are you serious? That's crazy. I thought they broke up. And I thought you two were getting into something."
I don't respond.
"Knox, I can hear it in your voice," Fletcher continues.
"Have you talked to her?"
"No. Not since we got back from Naples. I had to rush up here and I haven't had a chance. I haven't even been in the office."
"You should talk to her. Call her. See what it's about." Fletcher pauses.
"I know Rowan came to your office before you left. You said he didn't know that you guys were together."
"We're not technically together," I say.
"You know what I mean, man."
I pour another glass of scotch and take a drink.
Fletcher is quiet for a moment. Then he asks, "Knox, are you in love with her? Because this doesn't sound like the Knox I know. I don't remember you ever lamenting like this over a woman. I can hear it in your voice."
I go still. The question hangs in the air between us.
I try to deflect. "I'm fine. I have a lot of shit to handle right now."
"You're not fine," Fletcher says firmly.
"I think you should talk to her. If you don't want to call her now, then at least make sure you talk to her when you get back to New York. As soon as possible."
I don't answer. I just take another sip of scotch.
"Knox—"
"I gotta go," I say, cutting him off.
Fletcher sighs. "Alright, buddy."
I hang up and set the phone back on the desk. Then I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at it. I should call her. Ask her what happened. Ask her if she said yes. Ask her if everything that happened in Naples meant anything at all.
But I don't. My pride won't let me. My ego is hurt. My pride is hurt. I don't know what to think. I don't know if she went back to him. I don't know if that photo is the answer to every question I've been avoiding asking.
I pick up the phone and pull up Winter's contact. My thumb hovers over the call button. Then I set it back down. I go through those motions at least a dozen times before the night is over.
At some point, I try to find sleep, but it never comes. I just lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling, knowing that in a few hours I have to get up, fly back to New York, and deal with whatever the hell this is.
But tonight, all I can see is that photo:
Rowan on one knee. Winter standing in front of him. And me, three hundred miles away, powerless to do anything about it.
***
The next morning, I land at Teterboro at 10:30am. Victor is waiting on the tarmac and drives me straight into the city. I don't go home. I go directly to the office.
I've been gone for a number of days and the emails have piled up. Investor calls that need returning. Contract revisions that need reviewing. Project updates from Fletcher, Marcus, and half a dozen other people on my team.
I sit at my desk and work through them methodically, forcing myself to focus on anything other than that photo in the newspaper.
Two hours pass before there's a knock at my door.
I look up. "Yeah."
Marcus opens the door and steps inside.
"Winter Hayes is here. She says it's urgent and needs to speak with you."
My chest tightens.
I take a deep breath and look back at my computer screen.
"Tell her I'm in meetings."
Marcus's eyes widen slightly. He hesitates.
"Sir?"
"Tell her I'm in meetings," I repeat without looking up.
"Okay. I'll let her know."
He leaves and closes the door behind him. I stare at the email on my screen without reading it. Five minutes later, my phone rings. I pick it up.
"What is it?"
Before Marcus can respond, there's a knock at my door. I hang up the phone and sit back in my chair.
"Come in."
The door opens. Winter walks into my office.
My heart lurches in my chest. A dull ache spreads through me as I look at her.
She's as captivating as she's always been.
Her cheeks are flushed, her hair pulled back, her eyes bright and alert.
There's something nervous in the way she walks toward me, but also something determined.
A longing in her expression that I can't quite read.
"Hi," she says quietly.
I don't stand. I don't move. I just look at her.
"I heard you had an emergency in Boston," Winter continues, stopping a few feet from my desk.
"How did it go? Is everything okay?"
I pause, then take a deep breath and cross my hands in front of me on the desk. "
It's being handled. We'll get through it eventually."
I let my business facade slip back into place. Cold. Distant. Stoic.
"Are you here to give me an update about Tribeca?" I ask.
Winter's eyes go wide. She retreats slightly, like I've struck her.
"No. Not at this moment. I can later, but I just—I wanted to tell you something. About something that happened."
"You mean your proposal from my brother?" I say flatly.
"Is that what you want to tell me about?"
Winter's face pales.
"Knox, I just wanted to—"
“—I saw it. All of New York society saw it,” I say, as I cut her off.
"I said no," Winter says quickly, her voice rising slightly.
"I ran out. I didn't accept his proposal."
I pause and look at her directly.
"But did you want to accept it?"
"What? No!"
I stand and walk to the window, putting distance between us. I can't look at her right now. Can't stand the way my chest tightens every time our eyes meet.
"He came here on Monday," I say, staring out at the city.
"Rowan. He punched me in the face. Wanted to make sure to tell me that you and him were getting back together. He said that he was with you the night before. At your place. That you two were working things out."
Winter's voice is sharp with shock.
"What?"
I turn to look at her. "Is it true?"
"Knox, that is a fucking lie." Winter steps closer, her hands clenched at her sides.
"Rowan doesn't even know where I live. Second, we are over. We have been over."
"He said that you still love him."
"That's a lie!" Winter's voice cracks.
"Every single attempt he's made to get back together, I have told him to leave me alone."
I hold her gaze.
"But you didn't answer the question."
She stares at me.
"Do you still love him?" I ask.
"No," Winter says.
But she hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough for doubt to creep in. I turn back to the window.
"Then why didn't you call me? Text me? After Naples, nothing."
"You didn't call me either!" Winter fires back.
"I was giving you space." I turn to face her again.
"I thought you needed time to process whatever the hell happened between us. Then I find out you're entertaining his proposal at some charity gala."
"I wasn't entertaining anything!" Winter's voice rises, frustration bleeding through every word.
"He ambushed me in public! Got down on one knee in front of hundreds of people with cameras everywhere. I had no idea it was coming."
Silence settles between us. The air feels heavy, charged with everything we're not saying.
I step away from the window and move closer to her.
"What do you want from me, Winter?"
Her breath catches. "I want to know what Naples meant to you. Because it meant something to me."
"Did it?" I ask, my voice low.
"Or was it just a break from my brother? A distraction from your relationship falling apart?"
Winter flinches like I've slapped her.
"How can you say that?"
"Because you haven't said what you feel," I say, stepping even closer. "And I need to know if you're still in love with Rowan."
"I'm not in love with Rowan," Winter says, her voice trembling.
"I haven't been for a long time."
"Then what are you doing?" I demand.
"Why are you here?"
Winter's eyes fill with tears and her voice breaks when she speaks.
"Because I'm falling in love with you and I don't know what to do about it."
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. I close the distance between us in two strides and pull her into my arms. Our mouths crash together in a kiss that's desperate and consuming.
Her hands come up to my neck, pulling me closer, and I wrap my arms around her waist like I'm afraid she'll disappear if I let go.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. I rest my forehead against hers.
"I'm in love with you. I have been since the day you walked into my office."
Winter's breath hitches. "Knox—"
"But I can't do this if you're not sure," I interrupt, pulling back enough to look her in the eyes.
"If there's any part of you that still wants him. That still questions whether you made the right choice leaving him. I need to know now."
Winter's hands tighten on my shoulders.
"There isn't. I want you."
She pulls me back down and kisses me again.
This time it's softer. Slower. Like she's trying to prove something with the way her lips move against mine.
When we break apart again, I cup her face in my hands.
"I'm all in," I say quietly.
"If you want this. If you want me. I'm all in."
Winter nods, tears spilling down her cheeks.
"I want this. I want you."
I kiss her forehead, then pull her against my chest and just hold her. For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe.