Chapter 28
ALEX
Ipaced in front of the tall living-room window with my phone pressed to my ear, watching the snow finally start to ease its grip on the world outside. The storm had started petering out. The roads were plowed just enough to be passable but still dangerous.
Mercifully, the power was back on and the wind no longer howled like it had a vendetta. Sterling’s calm and familiar voice was on the other end of the line, and I wondered how he always managed to sound that way even when he was constantly juggling ten things at once.
“Zach tells me you’ve got an unexpected board seat opening up over at Thayer,” he was saying. “It sounds like things are really heating up with that deal.”
I stopped pacing, my reflection staring back at me in the glass. “Zach talks too much.”
Sterling laughed. “Zach talks strategically. There’s a difference.”
“There are now two seats,” I said. “We only needed one for the majority, but another one of the board members jumped ship.”
“That’s what concerns me,” Sterling replied.
I could hear movement on his end, one of his kids, probably.
He was always in motion these days. “You know I don’t mind a calculated risk, but Thayer Steelworks isn’t exactly trending upward.
Manufacturing is brutal right now. Investors hear ‘family legacy company’ and think ‘slow bleed.’”
“I’ve seen the numbers,” I said. “So has Jane.”
There was a pause on his end, not long but telling. Then he continued, sounding a little more careful now. “Okay, but Jane is your wife and a Thayer. That’s the variable here.”
“She’s not a variable,” I snapped, then exhaled and reined it back in. “She’s the reason that company is even still standing. She knows it inside out, Sterling. Their current leadership is the problem, not the product.”
“That’s what Zach said,” Sterling replied. “He also said the board looked like they were going to pass out when you walked into the room.”
“That’s not inaccurate.”
He hummed an amused sound, then sighed. “Look, I’m not saying no. I’m just saying I want to understand what I’m buying into. I’ve got a family now, Alex. I can’t just throw money at a ‘failing’ manufacturing company without seeing the upside.”
“The upside?” I said immediately. “Contracts. Infrastructure. Federal work. Jane has projections that—”
“I’m sure she does, but I want to see them,” he cut in. “In person.”
My gaze slid toward the kitchen, where Jane had been for what felt like hours.
Music drifted faintly down the hall, something upbeat that made the whole house feel alive.
I’d paid a delivery guy close to five hundred dollars to brave the elements and bring her very specific grocery order, and she’d disappeared like she was on a mission once it had arrived.
“Come to Chicago,” I said finally. “Soon.”
“I was going to suggest that,” he replied. “I’ll bring Laney. We’ll make it a whole thing.”
“Good,” I said. “We’ll talk more when you get here, but it’s not a failing company, man. It’s a fucking goldmine under shitty leadership.”
He chuckled. “We’ll see about that, but Alex?”
“Yeah.”
“Zach said this wasn’t just business for you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Zach should really learn when to stop talking.”
Sterling laughed again. “I’ll call you when I land, and, uh, congratulations. Who thought that one day, we’d both happily cave to the whole arranged marriage thing?”
I sighed and raked a hand through my hair. “Who thought it? We both did, my dear cousin. I suspect we simply thought we’d only do it when we were eighty.”
“Ninety,” he joked. Then there was a shriek of childish laughter in the background and the line went dead.
I stood there for another moment with my phone still in my hand, shaking my head and grinning as I wondered who had done what to who in that house of theirs to have caused that laughter.
Honestly, for a really long time, I didn’t think my oldest cousin knew how to laugh.
These days, however, with his wife and all those kids, there was always laughter when we saw or spoke to them.
When my thoughts inevitably turned to wondering whether that would eventually be true for me too, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and headed toward the kitchen. Jane stood at the island with her hair pulled back, her sleeves rolled up, and a wooden spoon in her hand.
Jazz music played from her phone and she was moving with it, swaying her hips to the beat and cooking like it was muscle memory. The counters were covered with vegetables and herbs, and whatever was simmering on the stove smelled incredible.
I leaned against the doorway. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
She started, then glanced up at me and smiled. “I might’ve been a chef in a past life.”
“This looks like it’s going to be a feast.”
She shrugged. “I can’t bake to save my life. Every bread, pastry, or cake I’ve ever tried has been a disaster, but give me a stove and I’m fine.”
I crossed the room before I could think better of it, cupped her face in my hands, and kissed her.
It was quick, instinctive, and maybe even a little bit necessary.
I had only let her out of bed when we’d both realized that the storm was easing and that we hadn’t eaten since before we’d left the city yesterday afternoon.
The delivery apps had been back online when I’d checked. So, reluctantly, I’d agreed to place the order. Then we’d showered and the groceries had come, Sterling had called, and as easy as all that, our weekend in bed had lasted only a few hours before it was over.
When I lifted my mouth away from hers, she smiled up at me. “What was that for?”
“Are you doing this for me?” I asked.
She glanced back at the stove. “I don’t get to cook like this at home. It’s for both of us.”
As I backed away from her, she shot me a look and pointed the spoon at my chest. “Don’t get any funny ideas about our future. I don’t often have time to make a meal like this.”
I laughed. “At this rate, I’m going to end up your dutiful househusband.”
“That’ll be the day.” She rolled her eyes and went to stir whatever was in the pot. Then she caught sight of her watch and stiffened. “Zara will be here any second. I’d better go get dressed for real.”
I groaned. “But I like you in nothing but my shirt.”
“So do I, but my new friend might not appreciate it quite as much.” She stuck the spoon into my hand, gave me strict instructions about how often to stir, and disappeared up the stairs.
The doorbell rang not long after and Jane went to open it. Zara breezed in like she’d visited us here a dozen times before, her coat dusted with snow and a bright smile on her face as she thrust a bottle of wine she’d brought along toward me.
“For you, good sir.” She pretended to curtsy, blowing right past me to envelop Jane in a hug.
I glanced at the wine, realizing why she’d given it to me, and headed to the bar to go grab some glasses like the dutiful husband I’d told Jane I would someday become. I just hadn’t realized that day would be today.
After I’d handed over their drinks, I retreated back to the living room, leaving them to talk at two dozen miles a minute in the kitchen. I poured myself a bourbon and got caught up with some emails until Jane called out to let me know the food was ready.
With Zara around, dinner was a much louder affair than I’d been anticipating, but she was just as fun as her brother and my wife had made her out to be. She slid easily into any conversation, trading barbs with Jane, and asking me questions that were half teasing, half pointed.
Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the main course, I finally cornered her about my brother. “So, you know Nate.”
She smiled sweetly. “We met in college.”
“That’s vague.”
“Intentionally so.”
Jane snorted into her glass and Zara winked at her. I watched them, my wife laughing as her friend turned back to me. “If you want to know anything else, you’ll have to ask your brother directly, Alex. I may have a big mouth, but I’m no gossip.”
“Great. How did I manage to find the only socialite in the world who doesn’t gossip?”
She pretended to clutch pearls she wasn’t wearing. “I’m a fashion designer, not a socialite.”
Jane burst out laughing again and I sighed but backed off. Clearly, this girl’s lips were sealed. Whoever she was to Nate or whatever she knew about him, she wasn’t going to share it with me.
After Zara finally left, the house went quiet in a way that felt earned rather than empty. Jane locked the door behind her, leaned back against it for a second, and let out a breath. “I love her, but she’s a lot.”
I smiled, collecting abandoned wineglasses from the coffee table. “I gathered.”
We didn’t bother clearing much beyond that. Jane kicked off her shoes, curled up on the couch with a blanket, and put on an old movie she said she’d seen a dozen times but never got tired of. I poured us more wine and sat beside her but not close at first.
Eventually though, we’d inched so close together that her feet ended up in my lap like we’d done this every night for a dozen years. Once the credits rolled, she gestured at the screen, the couch, and me as she shot me a smile.
“This feels like a vacation. I can’t even remember the last time I took one of those.”
I glanced at her. “You don’t take vacations?”
She chuckled. “I went to school forever. That was pretty much the whole of my twenties.”
“I know you have a PhD,” I said. “But I don’t actually know what that looked like for you.”
Her mouth tipped into a thoughtful smile. “Long days. Longer nights. Teaching classes I barely had time to prep for, grading until my eyes crossed, writing and rewriting my dissertation like it was a living thing that hated me and refused to fall in line.”
“How was it being an adjunct professor?” I asked.
“The worst,” she said. “There was no job security. No benefits. Just pressure to publish, teach, be available, and not to complain about any of it. I loved it, though.”
I nodded slowly. “This might sound crazy, but that actually sounds pretty familiar.”
She turned her head toward me. “Yeah?”
“My early days as CEO were brutal,” I said. “Seventeen-hour days. Every decision felt like it could break something. Or someone. I slept in my office more than I slept at home.”
“Did you want it?” she asked.
“More than anything,” I said without hesitation. “I still do. I just want to do things differently now.”
“Different how?”
“Trent and I have been working together,” I explained. “He wants his beef in more states than just Texas. I want into shipping, real infrastructure, and not just domestic. There’s overlap there. Opportunity to expand.”
Her eyes lit up with understanding. “Logistics. You have to keep that meat cold when you ship it.”
“Exactly.” I grinned. “See? This is why I meant it when I said I have ideas for your company, too. Big ones. Especially if you work with Trent too.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re already plotting again, aren’t you?”
“I can’t help it,” I said. “It’s how my brain works.”
She leaned back, considering before nodding slowly. “It’s strange to have someone talk about my company like it’s allowed to get bigger.”
“It is,” I said. “So are you.”
Another movie started playing, but we mostly ignored it, just talking about nothing and everything. Professors who had changed her life. My first boardroom coup and how terrified I’d been to walk into that meeting.
At some point, her head ended up on my shoulder, my arm around her without either of us acknowledging when it happened. It struck me then, how easy it felt with her, the intimacy, the talking, and even the quiet companionship.
If this was what marriage was, I liked it. I wanted it like this every day, but tomorrow, we’d drive back to Chicago.
Back to separate houses. Separate routines and that careful, strange dance we’d been doing since the wedding.
And the one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about, the one thing I couldn’t fix, was her sense of responsibility. Her family that she carried like an invisible weight.
I could solve problems. Build companies. Move mountains with the right leverage. But this? This was hers and I hated that I couldn’t make it easier for her.