Page 120 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

Marlow shakes her head, smiling softly as she leans back in her chair, resting her hand on her swollen stomach. She and Dylan are expecting a baby girl, and Lola is over the moon about becoming a big sister, telling anyone who will listen.

I hear a soft coo and glance over at Cash and Everly, who are next to Dylan, each cradling one of their twin boys, Teddy and Harry, in their arms. They flew in from London to be here and are staying at our penthouse. The last few days have been filled with cuddles, baby giggles, and tiny hands reaching for everything. It makes me excited for the future and the day I have my own kids. Harrison will be a great father, and our kids will have lots of cousins to play with, something I never had growing up.

“Fallon, this truffle aioli sauce is to die for,” Presley gushes. “I think the touch of smoked paprika gives it the perfect kick.”

Jack pulls her to his chest, kissing her forehead.

“I’m so happy you like it,” I say, my voice brimming with excitement.

Over the past few months, she’s visited the restaurant once a week for lunch, and I’ve made her a range of dishes to test out for the menu. We’ve grown close, and it’s great having her and Jack in the city. They join us often for Mavericks games and occasionally come over on movie night. Harrison takes the flowers from my hands, setting them on the table. He’s been incredibly patient and attentive tonight, allowing me to enjoy every moment without feeling overwhelmed. I’m the luckiest girl in the world to call him mine.

He leans in to whisper in my ear, “I can’t wait until we’re alone tonight. We’re taking home some of that homemade whipped cream I spotted in the kitchen earlier.”

A shiver dances down my spine at the promise in his voice. “As long as we don’t make as big of a mess as last time, I’m in,” I say, my tone sultry.

I clear my throat when I remember we’re surrounded by family.

“I better get to the kitchen before we start plating entrées. I appreciate you all coming,” I say to the Staffords with a broad grin.

A chorus of thank yous echo in unison, and Lola frantically waves goodbye, her cheeks puffed with a mouthful of food.

Harrison leans in to kiss my temple. “I’ll come find you when our family leaves.”

“Sounds good.”

I weave my way around servers and tables, the chaotic energy feeding my soul. As I pass the bar, I come to a stop when I find Walter folding cloth napkins. He came to dinner with a few volunteers from the animal shelter, and the last thing I expected was him to be helping out tonight.

“What are you doing? You should be enjoying your appetizers,” I tell him.

He glances up, giving me a warm smile. “Your staff got busy and I noticed you were running low on napkins and I figured I could lend a hand.”

I wrap my arm around him and rest my head on his shoulder. “That’s so sweet, thank you.”

He leans his head against mine. “Always, Miss Fallon,” he vows.

No matter how many times I ask him to drop the “Miss,” he just nods along but continues to ignore my request.

The sound of a dish shattering makes me snap my head toward the kitchen.

“You better get back there.” Walter gestures at the back of the restaurant.

“You’re right.” I lean in to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for everything, Walt.”

Over the past year, he’s become like a grandfather to me, and giving him a nickname only felt right. He’s one of the most important people in my life, and I think it means as much to him as it does to me.

I give him a quick hug before walking off. As soon as I step into the kitchen, I shift into work mode, ready to help with platting entrées and dessert prep.

Theo played a key role in helping me assemble a reliable team that I can count on to keep things running smoothly, even when I’m not around. He’s flying in for the grand opening, and we’ve already begun serious discussions about opening a Catherine’s Table in London next year. I’ve also been in talks with several publishers about my cookbook focused on allergy-friendly foods. It’s another dream come true, but with all that’s on my plate, I’ll need as much help as I can get.

I never could have imagined that this would be my reality—my own restaurant named after my mom, a man who I thought I lost forever but has now become my everything, and a family who’s given me nothing but love and support.

TEN YEARS LATER

It’s a beautiful summer day with the laughter of children filtering into the kitchen from the backyard. I’m just adding fresh mint leaves to a fruit salad when Harrison steps into the room, tucking his phone into his pocket. “Need any help, Mom?”

He has a slight crease around his eyes, evidence of a smile that never seems to fade.

As the CEO of Stafford Holdings, he still occasionally takes business calls, but he manages to keep work from dominating his time off. It helps that he has a reason to make every moment count and to remind him of what truly matters.

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