Page 51 of Call It Love (Sterling Mill #5)

Anna

Emma’s corner office 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 her Rooted collection.

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 the enjoyment 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?

Am I good 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 to consider 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. ”

Chase lifted my fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss onto them. “She doesn’t have anything to prove. Not to me. Not to anyone. And hopefully, not to herself.”

Emma’s eyes met mine. “If you ever change your mind, let me know. In the meantime, may I offer a little advice?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t discount the quality of your work.

If you sell them at craft fairs or farmer’s markets or only give them to friends, it’s perfect the way it is.

” She paused and glanced at Chase’s hand, which remained on my knee.

“You already seem to have found what people spend years trying to find. Don’t lose that. ”

I smiled at Chase. “Believe me, I won’t.”

By the time we pulled up to the farmhouse, the sky was streaked with pinks and yellows as the sun’s glow dipped lower and lower behind the mountains. Chase parked, but neither of us moved right away.

“Regrets?” Chase asked quietly .

I leaned my head against the seat and turned to look at him. I hadn’t known it could be so easy to be with someone. Like everything he grew, his love had deep roots—strong, steady, and secure.

“None,” I answered, knowing it was the total truth.

He leaned in to kiss me, then hopped out of the truck, momentarily distracted by Jack, who came bounding out of the house and threw himself at Chase’s legs.

I stayed in my seat a moment longer, savoring the sight.

In the fading light, I watched the farmhouse that had been in the family for several generations.

It had seen so many stories of love and loss, success and hardships.

I wondered how my story would weave into its foundation.

A part of me would always carry the ache that I wouldn’t be able to help carry on the Allen name, at least not by birth.

But thanks to Chase, I knew what really made this house a home.

And the proof of that was standing in the doorway, holding a bowl of popcorn and looking vaguely annoyed.

“Where have you been? You said afternoon,” Jordan scolded. “It’s practically bedtime.”

Chase smirked. “Miss us?”

“Nope,” he answered, but the faint smile he tried to hide behind a handful of popcorn said otherwise as he turned and went back into the house.

Chase came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice warm in my ear.

“Just how good this feels. Like I’ve finally come home.”

His mouth nuzzled my neck. “That’s because you have. It’s always been here. You just had to claim it.”

I turned in his arms. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For opening the door. All those years ago, and again when I needed it. For going with me to Nashville. For making me feel like I didn’t have to choose.”

His thumb brushed my cheek. “Always, Anna.” He winked. “But if you ever decide you want to take over the industry with lavender and goat’s milk, I’m your guy.”

I laughed. “What I want is what I already have. This.”

He kissed me, slowly and surely. And standing in the dusk with the arms of the man who had never asked me to be anything other than myself, I had everything.