Chapter Twenty-Two

Wyatt sat at his kitchen table, his breakfast getting cold while he stared at the blank notebook in front of him. The same one he’d been staring at it for the last hour.

No matter how hard he tried to develop marketing campaigns and figure out a plan to build the business, he couldn’t think of anything beyond “get more clients.” Even through all his failed attempts in the past, he’d still been able to come up with something. He was too proud to go to Astrid for help. He needed to do this on his own, but how?

It was like he had some sort of creative block. And it wasn’t limited to marketing either. He’d been trying to come up with a concept for his latest client for the last two weeks, but he had nothing. No vision, no story. Not even so much as a color scheme. He had zero ideas to show for weeks of brainstorming, and he’d known Whitney and Jackson since preschool.

Something was seriously wrong with him.

Tori would know what to do.

Tori. Now there was another complicated mess. He still had no idea what had gone wrong between them. He’d thought they were in a good place, had even wanted to try to move forward to something better. But clearly he was wrong or she wouldn’t have been so ready to accuse him of throwing his own chance at a potential client out of laziness or whatever else she’d assumed. He’d worked tirelessly the last two weeks just to keep his mind off everything that had happened, though, admittedly, to very little effect.

His cell phone rang on the table beside him, and he jumped up in his seat just like he had anytime the phone had rung these last two weeks. He snatched it up.

Gammie.

He slumped back in his chair. “Hello.”

“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded distant, muffled. The way it usually did when she called him over the car speaker.

He flipped the blank notebook closed in front of him. “What? Why?” He wasn’t doing anything, and yet he still felt like a child who’d been caught sneaking candy at bedtime.

“Because I’m on my way to your house, and I need to know if you’re up yet.”

“I wouldn’t be answering the phone if I wasn’t.”

“Why on earth are you up at this hour? You’re young. You’re supposed to sleep while your body still needs it,” she scolded as if she hadn’t just called him at sunup. “Do you have a lady-friend over?”

He checked his watch. “Why would you think I have a lady-friend over at six in the morning?”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask. You never know.”

Wyatt scrubbed his tired eyes. “What are you doing, Gammie?”

“Apparently, giving my grandson more credit than he gives himself.”

“Not too much credit or you wouldn’t already be on your way over,” he muttered.

She went on like she hadn’t heard him. “I’ll be there in five minutes. And I’m bringing you a surprise,” she said just before the call ended.

Wyatt set the phone down and shoved the notebook across the table. Maybe it was sad that he and his grandmother were so close that she came over at six in the morning for no apparent reason other than to criticize his sleep habits, but he’d welcome the distraction right about now. And it helped that he actually enjoyed spending time with his only living grandparent.

He just hoped Gammie’s surprise didn’t end up being yet another woman to set him up with. He didn’t even want to think about dating right now while his business was on the verge of bankruptcy.

The doorbell rang, and Wyatt crossed the short distance from the kitchen to the front door. Gammie stood on the other side—no other woman in sight, thank God—with a grin and a bottle of orange soda. “You know you don’t have to ring the doorbell.”

“What? And just barge in while you’re indecent?”

“I already told you I was up. And you told me you were coming.”

He waited for some kind of retort, but she just stood there unmoving in the doorway. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He stepped aside, allowing her entrance while she muttered something about manners. He stared at the bottle of soda in his eighty-four-year-old grandmother’s hands. “You do realize I’m not six anymore, right?”

“Maybe next time I’ll bring some soap for that smart mouth of yours,” she said, setting the liter bottle on the table with a thunk. “Now be a gentleman and get us some glasses. I had to ask three different people at the market where to find this stuff, and I’m not leaving here until you’ve drunk at least half of this.”

He grimaced at the sheer size of the bottle of liquid sugar. He was going to be sick as a dog before he even made it to the office. “Yes, ma’am.” Doing as he was told, he grabbed two glasses from the light brown cupboard and set them on the table. He cracked the seal on the soda top, releasing the pressure with a satisfying hiss, then filled one glass for himself. When he moved to fill the other, Gammie set her hand over it.

“Sweet tea for me. On ice. Hint of lemon.”

Wyatt grinned. “Rhoades…Gammie Rhoades,” he said, attempting a British accent. Gammie stared at him. “Oh, come on. I know you’ve at least heard of James Bond.”

“Of course I have. It’s just that your accent was so terrible, I didn’t want to encourage you to keep going.” She smiled at her own burn. “I’ve seen the first five enough times to give even you a run for your money, kiddo.”

He filled her glass with tea from the fridge. “I didn’t know you were a Bond fan, Gams.”

“I’m not. But I am a Sean Connery fan.” She sipped from her tea once he handed it to her. “That man is a fox.”

He frowned, picturing said ninety-year-old man as he took his seat at the table. “You mean he was a fox back then.”

“I said what I said.”

Wyatt chuckled and took a sip from his glass of orange soda, somehow both disgusting and comforting at the same time. It took him back to a time when he was a little boy sitting at his grandmother’s table after school. “Thanks, Gammie. I really needed this.”

“You ready to tell me why you’ve been so down in the dumps the last two weeks?”

He slid his fingers over the side of his glass. “What makes you think I have been?”

“You canceled our lunch date yesterday.”

“I had a busy day,” he explained.

She frowned. “It’s the fourth time in a row. I’m starting to think you don’t love your Gammie anymore.”

Please, like she could ever really believe that. The woman practically raised him. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve got a lot going on at the office.”

“So you’ve said. It’s just not like you.”

Tori’s words from that night rang in his ear. “Not like me to work hard, you mean? To want my business to do well?”

“Of course not. But in all your years with this place, you’ve never put it before your family or yourself.”

“It’s not that I’m putting it before you. But businesses are supposed to grow, and I have to work if I want that to happen. Companies don’t expand themselves, Gammie. I can’t just sit around waiting for it to happen on its own.”

“What good is growing a business if you can’t have a personal life outside of it?” she asked, brow furrowing.

“What good is a personal life if all you’ll ever be is some loser who couldn’t hack it?”

Gammie frowned. “Who says you would be?”

“Astrid. Everyone else in this town.” Tori. “To these people, either you do well and you get bigger and you’re a success or you don’t, your business plateaus or even goes under, and then you’re a…” He rubbed his palm over his chin.

“A what?” she pressed.

He let out a long, slow, defeated breath. “A failure.” Wasn’t that what he was really afraid of? That he couldn’t handle his business’s needs? That he didn’t have what it took to make it even better? His dad was the most successful person he knew. He’d built his company from the ground up, had singlehandedly made it into what it was today, and soon Astrid would be right behind him with whatever brilliant idea she had.

So what did that make Wyatt?

Gammie smiled gently and took his hand. “You know how much I’ve always loved your stories. Whether they were true or not, you were always so creative even when you were a little boy.”

“I remember.” He used to spend the entire bus ride sitting alone and dreaming up some new tale about something he saw, and Gammie was always there ready to hear it when he got home.

“Well, now I’m going to tell you a story about when I was younger.” Her head tilted. “I never really told you or your sister about this, but before I worked at the diner all those years, I was lucky enough to attend a women’s college for a year.”

“You did?” As far as he could remember, he’d never had any clue. He thought his grandmother had always worked at the diner. “What happened? Why only a year?”

“Just the way you put it. I couldn’t hack it. I didn’t have the patience for school. I wanted to be out in the world doing things, not sitting behind a desk. Memorizing facts has never been my strong suit, and I’m hopeless when it comes to taking tests. I like to learn by doing, not studying from some book.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t enjoy any of it. I was sad and lonely, and I missed my family so much that the pain of it distracted me from my studies.”

“What happened?”

“I dropped out. I was who I was, and I realized I wasn’t cut out for higher education. Sure, I could have forged through, tried harder. At least until I graduated. But then I would have lost all that time, and I would have been absolutely miserable by the time I finished. Not to mention I probably would have never met your grandpa, and then you wouldn’t be sitting here with me now. Some might wonder what would have happened, but I’ve never regretted it for a second.”

She squeezed his hand. “Now by your standards, does that make me a failure?”

“Of course not. But this is different, Gammie. Look at Dad and Astrid. Running a business should be in my blood. That’s the path I chose.”

“So you switch paths. There’s no shame in it. We all have our weaknesses. It doesn’t make you a failure. It usually just means you’re better suited for something else. What’s important is that we acknowledge those weaknesses and move on. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

“That I don’t have what it takes either and that I should quit now?”

Gammie’s hand left his, and she smacked him hard on the back of the head. “Ow!”

“I’m saying that I know you are struggling to figure this out, and you should keep fighting if you want to. But even if you don’t, that doesn’t make you a failure. There are different kinds of success, Bear. Some people, like your dad and Astrid, measure it by how high they can get in their careers and how big they can make their businesses. And others, like me, measure it by the love and happiness in their lives.”

Her hand reached for his again, and this time she grasped his, squeezing it. “Neither way is wrong. You just have to decide which kind you want to have.”

Wyatt stared at the empty notepad in his hands, but instead of the crushing weight from before, he just felt confused. Gammie had gone home half an hour ago, leaving him with a long hug, a nearly full liter of orange soda, and a lot to think about.

She made it sound so simple. But giving up on this business he started went against everything he’d grown up believing. What would Astrid think if he gave in now? What would Tori think of him?

We all have our weaknesses. What’s important is that we acknowledge those weaknesses and move on.

Maybe it was time he admitted it too. That no matter how hard he tried, this just wasn’t for him. Heck, he’d spent the last two weeks working tirelessly, handling all the boring parts of the business himself, and he’d absolutely hated it. It would never make him happy. Tori had seen it, so why couldn’t he?

If only he could talk to her, get her take on all this. Whether he should stay and fight or get out while he still could. But it wasn’t her choice to make. It was his. He just hoped he didn’t make the wrong one.

Ding dong. The doorbell sounded for the second time that morning. Wyatt headed for the door, already scanning for whatever Gammie must have left behind. Why that woman couldn’t just let herself in—

He swung the door open and froze. Tori stood in the middle of his porch, the early morning sun lighting up her slightly unkempt dark hair. She clutched her pink playbook to her chest, loose corners sticking out chaotically around the edges. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her—or her book for that matter—so disheveled. “Tori?” She blinked red eyes at him as she bit her bottom lip. She looked like she’d hardly slept. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

“You…what?” As wild as she looked right now, he’d half expected her to yell at him again.

“I’m sorry. For thinking you had anything to do with Collin and Dani picking me.” She stared down at her feet. “All this time I’ve been scared that being your friend would come back to bite me. That somehow you’d end up betraying me to get ahead in your career. So I jumped to conclusions.”

Her head whipped up, her eyes staring intently into his. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. Instead I was the one who ended up betraying you. And I’m sorry for showing up on your doorstep early in the morning and possibly waking you. Though with your hair, it’s kind of hard to tell.”

His hand automatically shot to the hair he’d been messing with all morning and tried to smooth it down.

Tori shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

Wyatt’s hand fell, and he let out a long breath. “Wow, three sorry in under a minute.”

“Four…technically.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door frame. “That has to be some kind of record. Maybe you should add apologies to your long list of talents. Right between pretend pitching and the ability to cram six Twinkies into your mouth.”

Tori shrugged, the small movement causing her entire body to visibly relax. “What can I say? I have a wide skillset,” she teased before letting out a soft laugh.

There were no words to describe how much he’d missed that sound. “So who was it?”

“That convinced Dani to choose me?” He nodded. “Georgina. After seeing all my previous work in Atlanta, she thought I’d be better suited for the big, fancy wedding she wanted. No offense,” she quickly tacked on.

“Hey, I told you the same exact thing, and I still stand by it. Maybe it was a good thing Georgina pushed for you.”

“Except that now everything has been set, and none of it is what Dani wants.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Georgina has called all the shots from the beginning. And now Dani is crying.”

“I’m sorry, Tori. I can only imagine how upsetting that must be for you.”

“I’m not upset for me,” she cried, poking herself in the chest. “I’m upset for poor Dani. She’s willing to settle to keep her mom happy, and I hate that this incredible day, one they will never get a second chance at, is ruined all because I was paying more attention to what the guests would like than my actual client.”

Her breathing had grown ragged from her outburst, her cheeks flooded with pink. It was hard to believe this was the same person who, only weeks ago, had told him that image was the most important aspect of wedding planning. “Is there any way I can help?”

Her face turned an even darker shade. “Actually, there is a little something. I’ve decided to change everything.”

“Everything?” That was no little something. Starting a wedding from scratch with only a month to go? That was self-mutilation. “Going against Georgina Bedland…that’s a risky move.” She was easily one of the most influential women in the Southeast. She could ruin Tori’s career with one word if she wanted to.

“I know it is. But, technically speaking, Dani is my client. Not her mother. And besides, won’t it be worth it to see the look on Dani’s face when she gets the wedding she truly wants? Her wedding?”

If it was anything like the light of hope on Tori’s face now, it really would be. “What do you need from me?”

She pulled the playbook from her chest and handed it over. “I’ve already got some ideas of what I want, but I really need your expert eye to make it happen and put it all together just right,” she said as he started flipping through the pages.

“I’ll pay you for your time, of course. That is, if you’re interested. I have only a month to get it done, which will mean pulling a lot of strings and more than a few late nights. But I understand if you’re too busy with your own stuff.”

He quickly skimmed page after page of her handwritten notes. She had a lot of great stuff in here, and he could already see ways to bring her ideas to life and make them even more. “When do we start?”

Her answering grin was a mix of joy and relief that made it nearly impossible for him to stand still. “Right now? I came up with the theme, but I still need help coming up with a venue. You know, one that will provide that intimacy while also being available on only a month’s notice. Are you free right now to brainstorm over breakfast?”

He thought about the empty notebook waiting for him on his kitchen table. The one he still had no idea how to fill.

“Breakfast sounds great. But as for the venue, don’t worry. I think I know the perfect place.”