Chapter 239

Chapter 239
NATHAN

I'd planned to talk to my grandfather about reconciliation possibilities. Now? What was the point? I checked my phone—zero messages from Natalie. No surprise there. She was probably celebrating her freedom from me.

Theodore squealed when I walked through the door, his little arms reaching up. I scooped him up, breathing in his baby shampoo scent.

"Hey buddy," I murmured against his soft hair. "Dad missed you."

I handled dinner prep, bath time, and read three bedtime stories until his eyelids drooped. Watching him drift off, emptiness spread through my chest.

"Your dad keeps screwing up," I whispered, smoothing his hair. "He pushes away the only woman who calls him on his bullshit."

Later in the garden, I answered work emails while smoking, the New York skyline twinkling nearby. My thoughts? Still in Chicago.

Time for backup. I texted Sean.

Me: Need advice about Natalie.

Sean: What'd you do now?

After explaining our fight about her moving back, my phone rang immediately.

"You're still acting stupid," Sean said, skipping hello.

"Great to hear from you too," I muttered, taking a drag.

"What did you expect? You can't demand she drop everything for you."

"Easy for you to say. You and Eve never dealt with this."

Sean laughed harshly. "Jesus, you're self-centered. You have zero clue what Eve and I went through."

"Okay, smartass. What's your secret?"

"Why rush everything? Eve and I dated eight years before marriage. You've been with Natalie what, a few months this round?"

"That's different. We were married before."

"Yeah, and it crashed and burned."

My jaw tightened. "Thanks for reminding me."

"Look, long-distance sucks. Someone has to compromise."

"That's exactly what I told her!"

"And you figured that someone would be her, right?"

I didn't answer. Didn't need to.

"It's not about distance," Sean continued. "It's respect. Eve works at Stevens Group in New York because she wants to, not because I made her."

"So what—I move to Chicago?"

"If that's what it takes."

"My entire life is here."

"And hers is there now. See the problem?"

I rubbed my temples. "What exactly did you do when Eve didn't want to come to New York?"

"You really want my advice?"

"Would I ask if I didn't?"

"Transfer $20,000 to my account and I'll tell you."

I laughed. "You're joking."

"Dead serious."

Twenty minutes and one bank transfer later, I waited impatiently.

"The big secret is..." Sean paused dramatically, "...there isn't one. Every relationship works differently."

"You conned me out of twenty grand for that?"

"Consider it your stupid tax. But here's something free: If you love her, prove it with actions, not demands."

I hung up, pissed but knowing he was right.

My grandfather reviewed documents in his study despite the late hour. At over 80, he still outworked executives half his age.

"Nathan," he acknowledged without looking up. "Back already?"

"Just landed." I dropped into the leather chair opposite him. "That Davis family mess? I caused it."

He set his pen down, eyes hardening. "You consistently create enemies. It's your worst quality."

"I get results."

"You create headaches." He studied me. "But that's not why you're here."

I inhaled deeply. "It's about Natalie."

His expression instantly cooled. "What about her?"

"We've been reconnecting. I'm thinking about reconciliation."

"I see." He folded his hands. "And you want my approval?"

"I want to know where you stand."

He leaned back. "My position hasn't changed. I didn't approve of her then, and I don't now."

"Why?" I demanded, tension creeping into my voice.

"Her ambition doesn't align with this family."

"That's unfair—"

"It's perfectly fair. She proved it by leaving you."

I clenched my teeth. "I share that blame."

"Perhaps. But the fundamental problem remains." He sighed, suddenly looking older. "However, you've established yourself now. You're not trying to prove yourself anymore."

"Meaning?"

"While I still don't support this relationship, I won't oppose it."

From him, that was practically a blessing. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he warned. "If you pursue this, don't let it distract from your responsibilities. And don't expect warm welcomes from me."

"Just respect her."

"I always behave appropriately, Nathan."

As I reached the door, he called out: "Don't trash what you've built chasing what you've lost."

His words followed me down the hallway.

That evening, I FaceTimed Natalie while holding Theodore. She didn't answer, but I noticed her profile picture—a photo I'd taken during our marriage. She hadn't changed it after our divorce. That had to mean something.

An hour later, she called back.

"Sorry I missed you," she said, hair wet from showering. "Dinner with coworkers ran late."

"No problem." I shifted Theodore so she could see him. "Someone wanted to say hi."

Her face softened instantly. "Hey, sweetheart. Is he asleep?"

"Just passed out. Had mac and cheese for dinner."

"His favorite." Her smile turned sad. "How was your flight?"

"Boring." I paused. "I talked to my grandfather about us."

Her expression changed immediately. "Why would you do that?"

"Because if we're moving forward, his opinion matters."

"Does it? Or does it just matter to you?"

"Natalie—"

"There's no reason to involve him, especially if we end up not continuing this."

That stung. "Is that what you want? To end this before it restarts?"

"I didn't say that." She pushed her hair back nervously. "I just want to avoid unnecessary drama."

"You're keeping your options open."

"I'm being realistic. We still have the same issues as before."

"I'm willing to work on them."

"By insisting I move back to New York?"

"By compromising," I said, surprising myself. "I can come to Chicago regularly. We can make this work."

She eyed me skeptically. "You'd really do long-distance?"

"If that's what it takes."

"The Nathan I married would never consider that."

"Maybe I've changed."

"Have you? Or are you saying what you think I want to hear?"

I placed Theodore gently in his crib. "I say stuff without thinking sometimes. That's on me. But I'm trying. If something bothers you, tell me straight instead of saying 'forget it' and walking away."

She stayed quiet for a moment. "I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking."

We carried on this long-distance relationship for three months. Then one Friday, I made a decision and boarded a flight to Chicago without telling her.

When I landed, I texted: "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing special. Netflix marathon probably."

"Check your Instagram DMs in 20 minutes."

I could imagine her confused face. "Why?"

"Just do it."

Twenty minutes later, I sent my location—a spot by Lake Michigan.

"Why are you sending me park coordinates?" she replied immediately.

"Ate too much dinner. Need to walk it off. Join me?"

"It's late, Nathan."

"Please? Important."

After a pause: "Fine. 20 minutes."

I waited by the railing, stomach churning. This wasn't me. Nathan Hall didn't get nervous about women. But Natalie wasn't just any woman.

She texted: [Here but don't see you.]

I called instead of texting back. "Look up."

"What?"

"The sky. Look up."

I heard her gasp as hundreds of drones lit up the night sky, forming "MARRY ME" over Lake Michigan.

"Nathan, what is this?" Her voice shook.

"Natalie," I said quietly, "marry me again."

I spotted her then, phone pressed to her ear, staring upward while people around her pointed and filmed. When she turned and saw me walking toward her, she covered her mouth.

I ended the call and stopped in front of her. Then I did something the old Nathan would have considered pathetic—I got down on one knee.

"Natalie Morgan," I said, opening the Tiffany box, "will you marry me again? This time, I promise to protect you. I'll be the man you deserve."

People noticed, phones recording. Several shouted "Say yes!"

Tears streamed down her face. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I do."

I slid the ring onto her finger, then stood.

"I thought kneeling proposals were too cliché for you," she said, examining the diamond.

"They are. But you enjoy clichés, don't you?"

She laughed through tears. "I don't enjoy clichés. I enjoy you."

I pulled her close, kissing her as drones glowed overhead. "Because I love you, I'll get as cliché as needed."

The next afternoon, we hit the Cook County Clerk's office to register our marriage. As we signed papers, I caught her watching me with that mix of annoyance and affection I'd missed so badly.

I posted on Instagram: "We got married. Again. Send applause and congratulations. #SecondTimeAround"