Page 47 of Story Of My Heart

Ledger leans forward, eyebrows raised. “What about it?”

I pause, the words heavy on my tongue. “I’m... well, I’ve become a lot more successful than you guys know. The dating app I developed took off beyond my wildest dreams.”

Fallon’s eyes widen, her mouth forming a silent ‘oh.’

“It generated more than just buzz. When I sold it, it made me... a billionaire.” I rush out the words, bracing for their reactions.

Silence envelops us for a moment, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Fallon is the first to speak. “A billionaire? Tate, that’s—”

“Incredible,” Ledger finishes, shaking his head in disbelief. “That only makes me even more proud of you, little brother. Why keep it a secret?”

“It’s what mom and dad wanted,” I explain. “They were clear about not wanting it to become public knowledge. I’m a silent partner here, financially supporting the resort. I trust you guys, Daisy, and Hank to keep things on track. I’d prefer to remain hands-off.”

“You’ve been funding all the improvements?” Fallon’s voice is a mixture of admiration and annoyance. “No wonder you’ve been a little crabby about working the front desk.”

“Yes. And I’ll continue to fund everything you need. But I want you both to keep this between us for now.” I look at them earnestly. “It’s important.”

Fallon reaches out, squeezing my hand. “Of course, Tate. But you know, you should have told us sooner.”

“I know.” I let out a laugh, more out of relief than amusement. “I guess I was afraid it’d change things. Make things awkward. Maybe even breed some resentment.”

“It doesn’t change how we see you,” Ledger says firmly. “You’re still our brother.”

“Thanks.” I feel a warmth spread through me, more comforting than the fire before us. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about family, and what I’ve been missing.”

“And Piper?” Fallon asks gently.

I nod, a smile tugging at my lips. “She’s made me see a lot of things differently. Made me want to be better, for her, for us. She gave up her dreams for mine. It’s time I support hers.”

“About time,” Ledger mutters, but there’s a smile on his face.

I stand, looking down at them both, feeling a sense of home I hadn’t realized I’d been missing. “Let’s just say, I’ve got plans. Big plans. And they include all of us, and yes, a lot of chocolate.”

Fallon laughs, standing to join me. “As long as it includes chocolate, Piper’s happiness, and the best mini-golf course my ‘not so secret billionaire brother’s’ money can buy, count me in.”

We stick together, a trio bound by more than just blood—by dreams, chocolate, and a secret that we’ll carry together us Story kids. It’s a new chapter for us, and I feel ready, perhaps for the first time, to really be a part of it.

As we share a warm laugh and the glow of newfound understanding, there’s a flutter from above. Captain Obvious, the ever-eavesdropping little shithead, perches above the fireplace, eyeing us with a keen gaze. Suddenly, he squawks loudly, his voice echoing in the high rafters of the lodge:

“Keep the secrets, keep the cash!”

We all burst into laughter as Captain Obvious fluffs his feathers, looking pleased with himself for his timely, if not entirely subtle, input.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Piper

There was a point in my life where I would’ve killed someone to get two weeks off from work. Fourteen days away from Tate and his penthouse, and his phone, and his ridiculous Rocketbook, and all of his crazy schemes that make copious amounts of money. Fourteen days without having to look at his piercing blue eyes, or his stupidly white teeth, or his nonsensically sculpted abs, or the little furrow that forms in between his eyebrows when he’s trying to solve a problem. Fourteen days to do whatever I want for a change.

It turns out, when given the chance, all I really want is to be by his side. I don’t consider myself a wallower, and I try really hard in the interim not to let myself flounder around in a puddle of self-pity and multiple pints of Moose Tracks. Taking great pains to fill my days with something other than reality television and staring at the elevator, I make it a point to do all of the things that usually bring me joy. I wander around the Twin Cities like a tourist, taking myself on dates to just about every place I can think of that Tate and I never got around to seeing together. The Institute of Arts doesn’t do it for me. Every commissioned portrait of a turn of the century railroad baron or oil tycoon reminds me of Tate, from the way they sit in their stuffy rigid chairs to the look in their eyes.

Historically, I’ve been able to count on the Cathedral of Saint Paul to lift my spirits in some capacity. Looking at the domed ceilings and the ornate altars should fill me with a sense of wonder and awe. Instead I find myself thinking of Gibson and Avery’s eventual marriage, and of the engagement party, and that stupid strawberry ring that got Sunset Fake so riled up. The Science Museum is no better. Every placard and display comes with a tiny Tate Story in the back of my head, providing a running commentary about how he could do better.

On top of it all, I can’t turn a corner without running into another happy couple. They seem to be swarming the city. Everywhere I look, the entire population of the Twin Cities combined seems to be operating in pairs. Their smiles make me sick. I want to stop every single one that I see and grab them by the shoulders, shake some sense into them before one of them gets hurt. Being happy can’t be as simple as they make it look. I have to be missing something, or else Tate and I could be doing each and every one of these things together, instead of a handful of miles apart.

He hasn’t come down the elevator since we’ve been back from Sunset Lake. I guess that’s my fault for being so adamant about our new boundaries. Still, I had expected more pushback. Like every woman before me, I wished he’d fought for me. For us. But he hasn’t. No calls. No emails. No texts. Not even a note under the door. As far as I know, Tate Story has ceased to exist.

Or worse. He’s forgotten all about me.

---