Chapter 3: Nathan's Commitment Issues and Inner Conflict

The amber liquid swirled in Nathan Carter's glass, catching the late afternoon sun that filtered through his penthouse windows. Standing at his floor-to-ceiling glass, he gazed out at the city skyline but had a thousand miles on his mind—anywhere but the concrete sprawl before him. Nathan took a slug of scotch, relishing the burn as it went down his throat. It had been his father's favorite drink, and that thought brought a bitter smile to his lips. At 38, he still couldn't get away from his influence. "You're just like your old man, Nate," his mom's voice bounced around in his head from years ago, a memory from his tumultuous teenage years. "Always with one foot out the door." Nathan closed his eyes. Guilt heaved its familiar weight onto his shoulders. He thought about his wife, no doubt sitting home now and plotting another couple's counseling session, and how he'd end. up missing her. He thought of his daughters, Emma and Lily, with their bright, glowing eyes and gap-toothed smiles that never failed to melt his heart, yet caused the fear of failing them even further. Then, out of nowhere, Olivia came into his mind. Olivia, with her infectious laughter, spirit of an artist, and looking at the world in colors he never managed to think of, set alight a pulse in him that nodded like it had not in years. "Damn it," Nathan muttered, emptying his glass as he slammed it onto the counter a little harder than was necessary. He raked a hand through his hair, messing up carefully placed locks. A picture, framed on his desk, caught his eye: much younger Nathan, maybe seven or eight years old, sitting on a motorcycle with a tall handsome guy—his dad, James Carter—the business legend who had built an empire from naught—and the man who was never there. Nathan picked up the photo again. His thumb outlined their figures. How often had he stood at the window, wishing his dad's car would turn into the driveway? How often had a birthday, a school play, gone by with an empty seat in the audience? "I swore I'd be different," Nathan said to the empty room, his voice strung taut. "I swore I'd never put work before family, never make them feel second best." But here he was, wasn't he? Working late nights, missing dinners, his brain always half on the next big deal. And now, this thing with Olivia. Nathan put down the picture, his gaze returning to the window. He suddenly remembered the day he met Sarah, just out of college and full of ambition. She was enigmatic, driven, and perfect by any standard on paper. They'd built a life together—an announcing life—so why did it feel like he was suffocating? A sharp, biting memory churned to the surface. He was 12 and sitting on the front porch with a packed duffel bag at his feet. His father's car had just pulled away, another broken promise leaving tire tracks in the drive. "He loves you, Nathan," she had said, her voice strained with holding back the tears. "He just. doesn't know how to show it. How to be here." She recalled little Nathan, eyes too young to have burned with anything but unshed tears, wetly lighting on her face. "I'll never love anyone, then," he said. "If that's what it does to you, I don't want it." The Nathan of today laughed humorlessly at that. If it were only that easy, he thought. If only he could shut off his heart as easily as he'd walled off his life. But Olivia. Olivia was in a class all her own. She breached the walls he'd worked so hard to erect around himself. With her, he felt seen in a way he never had before. She pushed him, inspired him, and made him want to be better. And that scared him more than anything. "What the hell am I doing?" Nathan muttered, pacing the length of his office. He was playing with fire, jeopardizing all he had built: his marriage, family, reputation—all on what? A few stolen moments of happiness? Yet, as much as he thought that, he knew that it was more—much more. What he felt for Olivia wasn't some midlife crisis or nascent infatuation. It was real, deep, and utterly terrifying in its intensity. The buzzing of his phone made Nathan jump; he must have been deep in thought. His heart quickened as he saw the name on the screen: Olivia. He looked at the phone for so long a moment that on his face emotional turmoil wriggled with incredible reservation. He should ignore it. He should delete her number and sever all ties, regretless than ever, to his marriage and the life he chose. Instead, his thumb rested on the answer button, trembling a bit. Then another came to light. His father, one of his rare visitors, pulled Nathan aside after some particularly heated arguments with his mother. "Listen, son," James had said, his voice husky with emotion. "I know I haven't been the best father. But I want you to know something: life is way too short to have regrets. When you find something—or someone—that makes you feel alive, you'll know it by holding on with both hands. You hear me? Don't let fear hold you back. That's my biggest mistake, and I don't want you to repeat it." Nathan took a deep breath and let the words of his father echo in his mind. Was this what Dad meant? Was Olivia his shot at breaking the chain and living authentically no matter what? Or was he rationalizing, using his father's advice as an excuse to be selfish? The phone didn't stop buzzing insistently in his hand. Nathan closed his eyes, took a deep breath once more, and then reached his decision. "Hello?" he replied, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Nathan?" Olivia's voice came through, warm and slightly concerned. "You okay? You sound." "I'm fine," Nathan said hastily, then glanced at his tone. "Actually, I'm glad you called. I was just thinking about you." She paused, and Nathan could almost see her smile surfacing on her face. "Oh? All good thoughts, I hope." Nathan laughed, and some of the tension oozed from his body. "Always," he murmured. As they slid easily into conversation, Nathan felt the familiar mix of exhilaration and guilt wash over him. He could sense the precipice—just one step from tumbling into something that would change his life forever. But then he heard Olivia's laugh. He liked the sound of it, and he liked how warm it made him to hear it. Nathan realized something. Maybe he'd already fallen. Maybe from the moment he saw her in that gallery. Could he let himself hit the ground, really let himself hit it, or would he pull back and retreat to safety, security, and the life he knew? Nathan Carter was standing by the window of his penthouse office while Olivia's voice washed all around him and left him caught between two worlds and two futures. For once in his life, and for the first time, he had no idea in which direction he would be going.