Page 4

4

Elias

G randma steps back into the hallway, and I stiffen as she tosses a mischievous grin my way. “I’ll let you two get to work. Dinner is in an hour,” she says with a wink. “Plenty of time.”

“Grandma,” I warn, heat crawling up my neck.

She grins wider, completely unfazed. “Unpacking, of course.” And with that, the door shuts behind her with a soft but thunderous click, leaving Taylor and me alone… in my childhood bedroom.

I glance around, trying not to cringe at the relics of my teenage years: posters of my favorite hockey players, trophies, and medals from my junior years, a bookshelf stuffed with fantasy novels, and, of course, the massive king-sized bed that tempts me in dangerous ways.

“Taylor,” I begin, but she’s already holding up her hands.

“It’s okay,” she says, her tone breezy, though I can see the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “I guess we should have figured something like this might happen.”

Maybe you’d hoped it would, huh, Elias.

Jesus. Just no.

“I’ll take the floor,” I offer, desperate to find a way to make this less… awkward.

She shakes her head firmly. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor in your own bedroom.”

“And if you think I’m letting you take the floor, then you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you,” she murmurs, then her lips quirk into a half-smile, her eyes playful when they flick toward the bed. “We could… do a pillow wall?”

A pillow wall. Like that’s going to stop me from wanting to crawl across it in the middle of the night. Still, what choice do I have?

“Yeah, okay,” I agree, trying to sound casual, though my voice is rougher than I intend.

“Let’s just make the best of it,” she says brightly, stepping away to explore the room. If there’s one thing I love about Taylor, it’s her ability to find the silver lining, even when we’re trapped in what feels like a goddamn rom-com setup. Damn you, Roman.

She opens a door and gasps. “Oh, a bathroom. It’s so big.” She glances over her shoulder, her grin lighting up the room. “And I don’t even have to share it with anyone.”

“You have to share it with me,” I point out, trying not to laugh.

She winks. “Right. Like back home with our Jack and Jill, except only one door. We’re pros at this.”

I should feel reassured, but instead, my mind flashes back to Grandma’s not-so-subtle comment. Did she really insinuate she wanted us to… get to work? On making great grandbabies? The thought makes me want to crawl under the bed, but worse is the realization that Grandma might actuallythink we’re up here, right now, doing exactly that.

Quietly, of course.

I groan inwardly. Quiet isn’t even in the realm of possibility if I were ever to—nope, not going there.

“Yeah, we’re used to sharing,” I agree, trying to focus on something safe. I glance at the bed and immediately regret it.

My inner voice taunts… but you’ve never shared a bed with her before, have you, dude?

It’s only two nights.

It’s only two nights.

Yeah, right, two nights of torture.

Taylor shuts the bathroom door behind her and starts exploring my room, her fingers trailing across the remnants of my teenage years. “I really like Grandma,” she tells me, her voice light but sincere.

Look at that. She’s already calling her Grandma, and it does something to me. Makes me feel… softer, warmer. Honestly, she could use a grandma after everything she’s been through in her young life.

Young life.

And there it is—a sharp reminder that she’s younger, and I’m too old for her. Not to mention the endless reasons why we shouldn’t even entertain the thought of… whatever this is.

“Is Grandma on your mom’s or dad’s side?” she asks, dropping onto the bed, and sitting cross-legged as her fingers absently twist loose thread on the blanket.

“Dad’s,” I say, moving toward my dresser.

“And Grandpa?”

“He passed away when I was little. Honestly, I barely remember him. Grandma’s been with us for as long as I can remember.” I shrug, my voice softer than I expected.

She nods, her gaze dropping to the blanket for a moment. “I’m sorry about your grandpa. Mine both died before I could really know them too.”

There’s a pause. Her eyes flick back to me, curious now. “What?”

“You said your parents are old-fashioned.” She sits up straighter, tilting her head. “Are they going to drag me out of this room and insist I sleep somewhere else?”

I watch her closely, trying to figure out if that’s worry or a challenge in her tone. “Is that what you want?” The words are out before I can reel them back in, and my chest tightens.Why the hell did I ask that?

Her lips part, and she looks at me like I’ve just thrown her a curveball. “Well, I mean…” She tugs at the blanket again, avoiding my eyes. “My brother…and none of this is real.”

“Right, yeah, I know,” I shoot back quickly, rubbing the back of my neck.

She glances at me sideways, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Or… is your mom on the grandbaby hunt too?”

That catches me off guard, and I let out an honest-to-God snort. “Honestly? It’s possible.” I shake my head and the drawer creaks as I tug it open. “But if Grandma put you in here with me, no one’s going to question it. Trust me.”

She gets up, smoothing her hands over her tight yoga pants and paces to the window, peeking out at the pool with longing. “Why do I feel like she runs this whole place?”

I laugh, leaning a hip against the dresser. “Because she does. She’s a force of nature, no doubt about it.”

She turns back to me, one brow arched. “So, I’m definitely staying in this room with you?”

“Yeah,” I say with a smirk. “Get yourself comfortable. Grandma has a way of getting what she wants.” I gesture toward the open drawer as she leans against the window, her movements teasing my damn dick. “You can put your things in here.”

Oh, and where would you like to put your things? Or rather…one thing.

Fuck off.

She steps closer, her hesitation fading as she sets her bag down on the floor. “It’s too bad that we’re going to disappoint her.”

“Yeah,” is all I say.

Needing something to do with my hands, I grab her bag and carry it to the bed, dropping it onto the mattress like it’s suddenly filled with lead.

“Thanks,” she says, flashing me a quick smile before unzipping it. She starts sorting her clothes into neat piles, and I try not to notice how natural she looks doing something so domestic in my space. I guess it’s a good thing she was kidding when she suggested she could be my roomie when I move out of her brother’s place. It all just feels too normal, too right.

Then, like a laser-guided missile, my eyes zero in on a pair of pink lace panties.

Jesus Christ.

I whip my gaze away like I’ve been caught staring at the sun, feeling my ears heat. It’s not like I haven’t seen her underwear before. Hell, I’ve done her laundry more times than I can count. But somehow, here, in this space, on my bed… it feels different.

Intimate.

She runs to the bathroom to drop off a cosmetic bag, and I busy myself with my own clothes, sorting them with shaky hands because I need something to do. Normally I’d dump my clean laundry into an empty drawer and work from that. But now I’m exaggerating every move.

“So,” I begin, my voice strained when she comes back, “How about that swim?”

“Oh, the pool.” She hurries to the window and gasps. “It’s gorgeous.” Eager eyes turn back to me. “Do you think we have time before dinner?”

I shrug. “Grandma gave us an hour.”

She laughs. “Yeah, not to swim.”

I groan, and drop my head. “I can’t even.”

“You could’ve warned me about your grandma pushing for great grandkids,” she adds, going back to folding a t-shirt. “I might’ve packed armor.”

“I’m sure she’s kidding,” I mumble. The truth is, I’d like a family of my own one day. I want the kids, the house and the SUV. I just want it on my terms, with the woman of my choosing.

Taylor chuckles, a sound that’s entirely too bright for the knot in my chest. “Elias, she basically handed us a script and told us to ad-lib a rom-com novel.”

“But isn’t that what we’re doing?” Honestly, I can’t tell if I want to escape the situation… or let it unfold.

Do not let it unfold.

“I guess you’re right.” She brushes her hair back, threading her fingers through it absently. “Which means I can’t hold it against her that she’s asking about great grandbabies. But babies…” Her eyes go wide as she gives a hard shake of her head. “I’m just not going there.”

That gives me pause. I realize she’s young, but I never considered that she didn’t want a family of her own. “You don’t want kids someday?”

She purses her lips and drops a bundle of clothes into the drawer. “Maybe someday, way down the road. Even then I’m not sure.”

I’m a little surprised by that actually. I always took her as the settling down type, someday. Maybe it’s because I see that in her brother. But I know they’ve both been hurt by their father’s infidelities. After losing a mother to sickness, a father to his lover, and moving in with their grandmother, I always felt it left Kalen craving a big family. Maybe it did the opposite to Taylor. Maybe she’s simply too afraid.

The door downstairs opens and closes and I stiffen at the sound of Mom’s voice ringing out, calling for Grandma.

Taylor’s eyes snap to mine and I nod. “Game time,” I murmur quietly. I suddenly feel like we’re going swimming after all, and I’m about to get tossed into the deep end without a life jacket. She must sense my hesitation, because she loops her arm through mine, giving a playful tug.

“We’ve come this far, Elias.”

I stay rooted in place, making her stumble a bit.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder, glancing back at me. “Elias?”

Her worried expression pulls me back into the moment. Everything in me softens. Honestly, she knows my mom is going to be dismissive of her, yet came with me anyway. It fills me with gratitude. Grandma was right. This woman really is something special.

“I just... Thanks, T.”

A small smile spreads across her lips. “Of course.”

Clearing my throat, I muster up some courage. “I think I know what you want.”

Her smile falters, replaced with wide-eyed surprise. “You... do?”

I glance out the window. “When I move into my new place, you can swim in my pool anytime you want.”

That makes her laugh. “You think that’s what I want?”

“Isn’t it?” I ask, playing along, though part of me is genuinely curious.

She hesitates, biting her lip. For a second, I swear there’s a look I can’t quite read in her eyes. Then she nods, her voice light but teasing. “Yeah, that’s what I want.”

I relax, the tension leaving my shoulders. “And a pony, of course.”

That gets a real laugh out of her, bright and unguarded. “Right, a pony.”

“Have you ever even ridden one?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner. Good with instructions, too.”

For a split second, the air between us shifts. Her lips part like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. My brain starts overanalyzing everything.

Wait—are we still talking about ponies? Why does it feel like there’s more to this?

Because I’m in a bedroom with the girl I’ve wanted forever, and my brain is officially malfunctioning.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.” She runs back and grabs something from her bag.

“What’s that?”

She grins. “A little something for your mom.”

I narrow my eyes. “You brought her a gift.”

“I didn’t have time to go out to get her anything, so I borrowed this from big brother’s cupboard.” She holds up a small bottle of New England maple syrup.

I arch a brow. “Borrowed? You’re bringing it back.”

She huffs at me. “It was the right thing to do, Elias. When meeting my ‘boyfriend’s’ mother for the first time, I should have a little something for her.”

I laugh at Taylor's antics as we head into the hall, but my stomach twists as we approach the kitchen. Mom and Grandma are sitting close, their voices low, heads inclined. Whatever they’re discussing, it’s not for me to hear.

Mom’s head lifts at the sound of our footsteps. “Elias! I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.” She strides across the room, her arms wrapping around me in a tight hug full of love. I hug her back, the familiar warmth of her embrace stirring guilt inside me—for numerous reasons.

I realize she can be hard on me, scrutinizing my actions, and after what happened last year, maybe she has the right to be. Deep down, she only wants what’s best for her only son and I can’t blame her for being cautious, for wanting to protect me from making the same mistake.

Sometimes though, the weight of her expectations feels like a mountain I’m not sure I can keep climbing, which is why I stepped away from women, and Taylor is here pretending to be my girlfriend to stop her from meddling and trying to marry me off to a woman of her choice.

Her smile slides into place, warm and a touch rehearsed as she turns to Taylor. “Taylor, right? Taylor Turner?” Her tone is smooth, but her gaze is cautious, calculating. Taylor nods politely. “I’m Mrs. Ariti.” Mom’s eyes flicker over Taylor, the way she might inspect a questionable press release. “Elias tells me you’re an actress.” Grandma clears her throat—soft but intentional. Mom’s shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t miss a beat. “Any relation to Tina Turner?”

Taylor smiles, her voice calm and composed. “No relation, and I’m an aspiring actress. I’m studying at Boston College and performing at a local community theater. If you’re ever in Boston, I’d love for you to come.”

Before Mom can respond, I jump in, trying to steer the conversation. “I should probably do a formal introduction. Mom, this is Taylor, as you know. Taylor, this is my mom, Cheryl. She works in communications for the governor’s office.”

“Press assistant,” Mom clarifies, her gaze sliding over Taylor again, as if weighing her against an invisible standard. “Image is everything.” I cringe internally as she probes Taylor, trying to assess if she’ll be another liability. But Taylor, to her credit, doesn’t flinch. She stands her ground, unwavering and somehow, she rises to the challenge in a way I didn’t expect, but probably should have. “As an aspiring actress, I’m sure you understand the importance of perception and how quickly one single act can change public opinion,” Mom adds, her tone light but pointed.

“I do understand,” Taylor replies, her chin high, her voice steady and confident. “And I’m careful in my actions. I would never do anything to jeopardize anyone’s image.”

I stare at her, my chest tightening, wondering if she fully understands what she’s saying. Does she know how much weight those words carry in this room? How fragile everything can be? She wasn’t in Boston when things went south—when everything crumbled and we learned just how quickly a single choice can change everything. Her brother and I never told her the details. But somehow she knows all the right things to say, and this isn’t about acting. This is about truth.

“And I must say,” she continues, nothing but kindness and honesty in her words. “I’m so happy to meet you. Elias has told me so much about you.”

“Has he now?” Mom arches a perfectly manicured brow, intrigued but wary.

“All good things, of course. He’s a great guy, Mrs. Ariti.” Then, to my shock, Taylor takes Mom’s hand in hers, her expression warm and open. “You did a fabulous job raising him.”

Mom blinks, visibly thrown. Her glance flickers to mine, and for the first time, I see a crack in her armor.

“He’s kind and caring,” Taylor continues, her sincerity cutting through the tension in the room. “His teammates love him, and he’s a powerhouse on the ice. We all know he wouldn’t be where he is today without a strong, supportive family.” She leans in, her voice lowered. “And we all know it’s the mother behind every strong family.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch Grandma’s proud grin and, in this moment, I realize something. The ease with which she speaks, the way she handles my mother’s judgment like it’s nothing. This is who Taylor is. It’s not an act. It’s real. Roman knew it all along. Maybe the rookie isn’t such an ass. Maybe we don’t give him enough credit, and maybe I ignored these endearing traits because it would just make me want what I can’t have that much more.

“I… oh… thank you,” Mom stammers, her usual poise slipping.

“And I brought you this.” Taylor reaches into her bag, pulling out the bottle of maple syrup and holding it out to Mom.

Mom dips her head, her blue eyes narrowing. “Maple syrup?”

“Elias once told me it was your favorite.”

My heart tightens. I’d forgotten I’d ever mentioned that to Taylor. I thought the syrup was just a random gift, but now I see the care and thought behind it. My chest warms at her quiet attentiveness.

Mom turns the bottle over in her hands, her expression softening further. “I do love New England maple syrup.”

“Good and this bottle comes with breakfast,” Taylor beams. “Growing up it was tradition for us to eat waffles on Thanksgiving morning. Elias and I will be doing the cooking. My grandma’s secret recipe—you’re going to love them.”

Mom’s composure wavers again, but she recovers quickly, her tone shifting back to probing. “Your grandma’s recipe? That’s lovely. Your family doesn’t mind you being away for Thanksgiving? Or is family not important to you.”

Sadness flickers across Taylor’s face, a genuine ache that tugs at something in all of us. “Family is the most important thing in the world to me,” she explains softly. “Mom passed when I was young. Dad stayed in New York, and my brother Kalen and I moved to Connecticut to live with our grandmother. It’s just my brother and me in Boston now.”

Mom leans forward, and Taylor might as well be under a bright light because the interrogation is about to commence. “I see. Your father didn’t raise you after your mom…”

I’m about to stop the interrogation, but Taylor nods, unbothered by the question, and continues, “We were supposed to visit Dad in New York, but his partner came down with the flu.”

“His partner?” Mom’s voice dips, curious but gentler now.

Taylor nods. “Dad is with someone new now. We don’t see him all that much.”

Mom’s lashes fall shut for a second. “Sounds like you miss him.”

“I do.”

Quietness fills the room, and I see something shift in Mom. Her guarded demeanor gives way to understanding, the unspoken grief in Taylor’s words dissolving the walls she’d built.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mom sympathizes, in a soft voice that’s only reserved for family.

Taylor smiles, aiming that warmth my way, and it nearly steals the air from my lungs. “He’s going to love Elias when they meet.” In a softer voice she adds, “Mom and Grandma would have loved him too.” The room stills, the weight of her words hanging in the air, and then Taylor turns back to Mom. “Anyway, it’s really great to meet you, Mrs. Ariti. You have a beautiful home, and I’m grateful to share this important holiday with you all.”

Mom swallows hard, her hand brushing Taylor’s briefly as she says, “Please, call me Cheryl. Did you get settled in? Is Elias’s bed going to be comfortable enough for the two of you?”

And just like that, I realize how wrong I was to worry. Taylor isn’t intimidated by my mother—she’s winning her over, one honest word and genuine gesture at a time.

But as I watch Mom’s face soften, an entirely different kind of dread settles over me. Taylor’s charm is working too well. By the end of the weekend, she’ll have my parents eating out of the palm of her hand—and probably talking to me about wedding dates.

This charade was supposed to buy me time, not turn into wedding bells and futures—and let’s not forget babies.

What is happening in my life?