Page 7 of Claiming My Grumpy Ex

Dad raised an eyebrow, giving me a curious look. “Elena Mitchell, you mean?”

I nodded, surprised at how naturally the name rolled off his tongue. “Yeah, Elena.”

He gave a small nod, glancing away as if he were thinking over something. “I remember her. Ran into her a few months after you left. Looked like she was expecting.”

The words hit me, and a wave of disbelief tightened in my chest. Expecting? Elena? I fought to keep my reaction calm, but inside, my mind was racing, images of Jake flashing through my head.

I reasoned that it was probably just a coincidence—plenty of kids had sandy hair and an easy smile. It couldn’t be the sameperson. Ellie had the wrong name, and her features weren’t quite the same as Elena’s—it wasn’t just from aging.

“Didn’t know that,” I said finally, keeping my tone even. “Guess she had her reasons for moving.”

He shrugged, and we fell into a comfortable silence, talking instead about the store, the familiar customers, and anything to keep my mind from spiraling.

As I left, the thought kept gnawing at me. I’d come here to surprise my mom, but I was leaving the store with questions I hadn’t planned to ask. And a gnawing feeling that the past was closer than I wanted to admit.

I drove the short distance to my parents’ house, turning onto the familiar curved driveway. The place looked the same as always, a cozy ranch-style home surrounded by towering oaks and a garden that Mom tended to with almost obsessive dedication. It was the kind of place that always felt welcoming, even if I’d drifted away from it over the years.

As I parked and climbed out, I spotted Mom on the front porch, chatting with a couple of her friends from town. She noticed me almost immediately, her face lighting up with surprise.

“Cory!” she called out, hurrying over with a smile that made me feel ten years old again. “Well, this is a wonderful surprise!”

I hugged her, feeling the warmth and strength in her embrace. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

She stepped back, beaming. “This is the best surprise I could’ve asked for.” She turned to her friends, proudly introducing me like she always did, as though they hadn’t known me my whole life. They laughed, exchanging greetings, and I endured the usual barrage of questions about life in Dallas, my work, and whether I was planning to stay around long enough to visit again.

After they left, I handed her the birthday gift I’d brought—a framed piece of an old quilt my grandmother had made for her when she was a baby. I’d found it stored away in the attic the last time I was here, and my assistant had helped me get it framed.

“Oh, Cory…” Her voice softened as she traced a finger over the delicate stitching, a bittersweet smile on her face. “I haven’t seen this in years. It was my favorite blanket growing up.”

“I figured it deserved a better spot than gathering dust,” I said, watching her expression with a mix of pride and warmth. She looked so happy, and for a moment, I felt that elusive connection to this place, to family, to everything that had made me who I was today.

Mom placed the framed quilt carefully on the table. Her eyes were still fixed on it as if lost in memory. “Thank you, sweetheart. This… this means more than you know.”

We spent the afternoon catching up, discussing everything from family stories to events happening around town. She shared information about neighbors, church activities, and her plans for the garden next spring. It felt familiar and comforting.

However, as Mom talked, I found myself reflecting on Cedar Cove, the mysterious woman, and her son. The unsettling realization struck me that the past I thought I had left behind was much closer than I realized.

Later, after dinner, Dad and I cleared the dishes while Mom settled into her favorite chair in the living room, chatting happily on the phone with her sister. The house felt cozy, filled with the low hum of conversation and the familiar scent of home-cooked food lingering in the air. It reminded me of all the nights I’d spent here growing up, the unchanging rhythms that made life here seem so simple.

As we stacked the last of the dishes, Dad leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he gave me a once-over. “You looklike you’ve got something on your mind,” he said, his tone casual but knowing.

I shrugged, feeling a bit exposed under his gaze. “Just thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting like he always did when he knew I had more to say.

I hesitated, then gave in. “You ever think about what would’ve happened if you’d taken over Grandpa’s company?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not for a second. I had all I wanted right here. Dad’s world… that was never for me.”

I nodded, feeling the familiar pang of conflict. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing what I’m supposed to with it. You know, with everything he left me.”

Dad studied me, his expression softening. “That fortune doesn’t have to define you, Cory. You can still find your own way with it. Money doesn’t change who you are—not if you don’t let it.”

I gave a small nod, appreciating the words but still feeling the weight of it all. “It’s just… sometimes it feels like I’m straddling two worlds. There’s Dallas, with all the business and board meetings, and then there’s this place where everything’s just… real.”

He gave a quiet laugh, his gaze steady. “There’s a difference between running after something and knowing where you belong. I chose this life because I knew what mattered to me. Maybe you haven’t figured that out yet.”

The words settled over me, familiar yet somehow hitting harder than usual. My life had been a constant hustle, building something that felt both monumental and empty at the same time. And now, after meeting Ellie and Jake, I couldn’t help but feel like there was a part of my life I’d left unfinished.

---