Page 121 of Call It Love

She pulled back just enough to look at me, but still within the security of my arms. I didn’t speak, just waited. Let her gather her thoughts and words.

“The second Mallory told me about the offer, I felt it. The old panic. Like I had to ask someone if it was okay to try something new. I thought I’d grown out of that, but there it was.”

My jaw clenched. Not at her, but at the echo of Mason still trying to live in her skin. “Anna?—”

“Let me finish?” she asked softly.

I nodded.

“I know you love me. I never doubted that. And I know you were trying to give me freedom to support my dreams,” she said, eyes searching mine. “But I just needed to know that wanting this wouldn’t mean losing us. That I could still want something bigger and have something real.” She swallowed hard. “And when you said it was my choice, I didn’t hear you beingwithme. I heard…distance.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and I stepped forward before I even knew I was moving.

“You don’t need my permission to dream. To grow,” I said, my voice rough. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean I’ll stand here and watch you walk away. We just have to figure out what different looks like for both of us.”

She nodded, eyes glinting with tears. “I know that now. I just had to get out of my head.”

I nodded slowly. “You don’t owe this place your silence, Anna. I want to beinyour life, not holding it back.”

She exhaled, like she’d been holding her breath for years. “I want you to come with me. To hear what Emma has to say so we can decide together what works best.”

She wasn’t asking. She wasn’t tiptoeing around what she wanted or waiting for me to find a solution.

“I’ll talk to Bodie and pack a bag. Just let me know when we leave.”

Her eyes widened slightly, like some part of her still hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. But that hesitation passed quickly. “I’ll call Emma and tell her we’rebothcoming.”

Chapter 42

Anna

Emma’s corneroffice was on the twelfth floor of a sleek, modern building in the heart of Nashville. The space was vast, with high ceilings and a wall of long windows that overlooked the city and let the sunlight pour in. The minimalist design was warmed by earth-toned rugs, leather seating, and potted plants that bloomed in colorful ceramic pots. The walls were lined with framed photos of vibrant fields, herbs in jars, and beautifully packaged products that were their own art form. It was elegant. Professional. Alluring.

And Emma herself had been gracious and warmly welcomed us. She had rearranged her schedule to accommodate our last-minute visit. She’d spent the last hour showing us her current products and walking us through ideas for herRootedcollection. I sensed her excitement. Believed in her product. It was exciting, and I could see the potential for my little soap.

But it wasn’t me.

The more I learned, the more I discovered that theenjoyment I got from creating something would become work. I knew I’d lose the enjoyment.

I glanced at Chase beside me. He had said little so far, just asking a few questions about some of her products. He was definitely letting me sit in the driver’s seat. I drew strength from the hand that rested on my knee, grounding me. “I thought I might want this. I really did.”

Her sharp eyes pierced me. “And now?”

“I think you’ve built a business that honors the integrity of the maker. It’s remarkable, and I’m honored you think my soap lives up to your standards.”

Her smile broadened, causing me to squirm inwardly, knowing what my next words would be inwardly, but I didn’t waver.

“But I don’t think it’s what I want. What I do is a hobby, not a job. I’ve lived a lot of my life questioning everything. Always wondering how I could do better. Is it good enough? AmIgood enough?” Chase squeezed my knee, and I rested my hand on top and entwined my fingers through his. “I’m afraid if I turn something I enjoy into work, it will become a weight I’m not ready for. Not yet. Maybe not ever.” I looked at the man next to me. “I’ve found peace, and I know where that is. Unfortunately, it’s not here. At least, not now.” I looked back at her. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

She stared at me for a long minute, then, to my surprise, she offered me a wry smile. “Peace is worth protecting. I respect that you know what you want and aren’t letting someone like me push you into something you don’t. Good for you.” She wrinkled her nose. “Even if it’s bad for me.”

Something inside me unknotted with her words and the understanding in her eyes.

She folded her hands on her desk and seemed toconsider me for another long minute. “I’m still glad you came. You remind me of myself several years ago.”

I stared at the beautiful, composed, confident woman in front of me and tilted my head. “Oh?”

“You’re right. It’s easy to get caught up in all of this.” She waved her hand around. “The meetings. The branding. The pressure to scale and prove yourself. It takes a lot of time and energy to keep a business grounded, to remember why you started it in the first place. Part of me misses those days in my little kitchen, just a pot on the stove as I made something for fun.” She laughed a little. “Not that I would trade this. I’ve worked hard and proven myself.”

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