Chapter 52

CHAPTER 52

ZAYN

T he night was darker than usual, or maybe that was just how it felt. I drove out to my dad's house, trying to find the right words to shatter the illusion. I led them all to believe I was happy and settled. I knew he was going to be disappointed in me.

Nothing new, but it was nice to be on the good side for a while. I got to be like my brothers and cousins. They all looked at me differently and even talked to me differently. It felt like I had finally gotten a seat at the adult table. Once I confessed my sin, I was going to get demoted back to the single, player table. I'd be stuck with Hayes once again.

Kathy answered the door and escorted me to my father's study, telling me he would be right in. I helped myself to a glass of whiskey. I needed the liquid courage. I'd been rehearsing this conversation for hours, and yet, now that it was time to actually do it, my mouth felt dry.

Dad walked in a few minutes later. "Sorry, I was on the phone with Jett. He's already on another case and needed a contact."

"No problem."

He walked over and poured himself his own drink. "You look like you've got something on your mind," he said.

There was nothing he didn't see, and yet, he hadn't figured this out. Not yet. "I do."

"Let's sit."

I sank into one of the leather armchairs. I took a breath, then forced the words out. "Dad, the engagement with Marigold? It wasn't real."

He paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. His eyes zeroed in on me. It felt like I was in high school and I just told him I stole his prized car and wrecked it. I was certainly not the brother that got into the most trouble, but I had my fair share of incidents.

He put his glass down carefully. "What do you mean?"

"It was a publicity stunt," I said, the words burning as they left my lips. "We did it to improve my reputation. The investors for the nonprofit were hesitant to give us money, given our reputations." I hated how clinical that sounded, how detached. Like I was just talking business. But then, wasn't that all it was supposed to be?

"You mean you didn't want people throwing Hudson's troubles in his face."

I nodded. "Yes. I'm no saint and neither is Hayes. But I was the one putting my name on the top line. I'm the one people would be looking at."

"And you did that on purpose to protect Hudson," he said.

"Dad, I'm not an angel. It wasn't just about Hudson. I did it for me as well."

"Where did you find Marigold?"

"We met in Mallorca at Carlos's wedding. That part is true. She was having some troubles with some of the girls and claimed I was her fiancé. It worked so well then, I thought of her when it was suggested I clean up my reputation with a serious relationship."

"How did you convince her to agree to that?"

"Money."

The disappointment in his eyes was killing me. I took another sip of whiskey. The silence between us stretched out, thick and suffocating. I expected him to be angrier, to yell or demand to know why I'd lied. But Dad wasn't the type to lose his cool, not when it came to business. And this—this was all business, right?

After a long pause, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his beard. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he said slowly. "You've always been willing to do what needed to be done, especially when it came to the business. Consequences be damned."

I nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"But this time, the consequences aren't falling on you, are they? They're falling on Marigold."

That hit harder than I expected. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my mind racing back to the last time I'd seen her. The way she'd looked at me, the sadness in her eyes as she slipped the ring off her finger and handed it back to me. The way my chest had felt like it was caving in, like my heart had been ripped out, leaving an empty cavity.

Dad leaned forward. I could see him studying me, like he was looking for an answer in my eyes. It wasn't there.

"I'm handling it," I said. "I'm working with Kate to draft a release that will focus the blame on me."

"It's a shame, son. Marigold was special. It didn't look or feel like a lie at all. I'd have bet money that you were in love with her."

I grimaced. That was exactly what I was afraid of hearing.

Love. The word felt foreign, strange, and impossible. I'd spent so much time focusing on my work, on achieving every goal I set my mind to, I never bothered looking for love. Love was never part of the equation.

I'd never been in love before, so how the hell was I supposed to recognize it now? But as soon as Dad said it, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was right. Maybe this was what love felt like. This emptiness, this sense that something vital was missing from my life now that Marigold was gone.

"You're quiet," Dad observed, a small smile playing on his lips. "So, you are in love with her then?"

I looked down at the glass in my hand, watching the amber liquid swirl. "I don't know," I admitted. "I've never been in love before. This might just be an infatuation. She is a good person. She was a friend. I enjoyed spending time with her."

Dad let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You're a smart man, Zayn, but when it comes to love, smarts don't count for much. It's about what you feel." He leaned back again, crossing his arms over his chest. "And let me tell you something—if you're sitting here, trying to figure out why you feel like a piece of you is missing now that she's gone, then yeah, you're probably in love."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. Could that really be it? Was this what love felt like? This constant aching pain in my chest. The way my mind kept drifting back to her, wondering if she was okay, if she was thinking about me too? The way she'd made me feel—lighter, more driven, more alive.

And now that she was gone, it felt like the fire she'd lit inside me had been snuffed out.

"I don't know," I said. "I just need to clear my head."

Dad smiled knowingly, as if reading my mind. "Take it from a man who missed decades with the love of his life," he said, his voice softening. "Don't waste any time. Tell her what's in your heart. Take the leap. If you miss and fall to your death, so be it. It's better than never knowing what could have been and living your life without her."

"I can't," I protested. "She returned the ring. She's hurt. She doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. She's moving back to Wyoming."

"And whose fault is that?" he asked. The question wasn't rhetorical, but he didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he stared at me with eyes that saw too much. "You messed up, son. No one else but you can fix it."

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "I know."

"Do you? Because it sounds like you're hoping for an easy way out. You're thinking you can just shut off your heart."

My head spun. This felt different than any other challenge I'd faced. Business was easy. I was good at that. But this? This felt like life or death, like something I couldn't control, something I couldn't strategize my way through.

"I don't even know where to start," I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

"Start with the truth."

"What if she doesn't want to hear it?"

"That's a risk you'll have to take," he said. "But if you don't tell her, if you don't try, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

"Easier said than done," I grumbled. But deep down, I knew he was right. No matter how much I wanted to erase this pain, I couldn't just un-know what love felt like.

Assuming this was love.

" Love is messy and complicated and it's never as easy as we want it to be. But it's also the most rewarding thing you'll ever experience. You'll never know how good it is unless you take a chance."

Before I could respond, the door opened. Kathy stepped in, carrying a tray of sandwiches and cookies. She must have overheard at least part of the conversation, because she was smiling, her eyes warm and understanding.

"It's never too late to give love a shot," she said, putting the tray on the table. She glanced at Dad, then back at me. "Trust me on that one."

I admired their relationship, even if I didn't fully understand it. It was hard to think about my dad being in love with a woman that wasn't my mother, but I also understood it was possible to love two women. He loved my mother and treated her well. When she died, my father had been devastated. He withdrew from life in general.

It was when Kathy came back into his life that he started to live again.

"You heard?" I asked.

She wrinkled her nose and sat down next to my father. "I'm sorry. I did."

"It's going to get out soon enough," I said.

"Marigold's a good woman, Zayn," she said gently. "She deserves to know how you feel. And you deserve to know if there's still something there between you two. I know she has some deep feelings for you. I saw it when she looked at you. The eyes don't lie."

Could I really do this? Could I take the leap Dad was talking about, risk everything for a shot at something real?

Kathy gave me a small, encouraging smile. "You've never been one to back down from a challenge. Why start now?"

I looked between them, my father and soon-to-be stepmother. They looked happy. It was a different kind of happiness. I had a tiny taste of it, and it was like my eyes had been opened.

Maybe they were right. Maybe I was in love with her. And maybe—just maybe—it wasn't too late.

"I need to talk to her," I said, the decision solidifying in my mind. "I need to tell her how I feel."

Dad's smile widened. "That's exactly what you need to do. And even if you don't get the answer you want right away, don't give up. She might need some time."

"If she's even around," I said.

Kathy smiled. "Go get her, Zayn. Don't let this slip away. She's worth fighting for. Even if you have to swallow your pride and grovel, she's the kind of woman you want to give it your all."

"Thank you," I blurted out. "For everything. For giving me some good advice. I don't know if it'll work but thank you."

"You've got this, son," Dad said.

I stood up feeling a new sense of resolve. I didn't know how this would go, or if Marigold would even want to hear me out. But one thing was clear—I couldn't live with the regret of not trying. Not when it came to her.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't thinking about business, or success, or money. I was thinking about Marigold. About the way she made me feel, the way she'd lit up my life in ways I hadn't even realized until she was gone.

It was time to take the leap.