Page 36 of Say You Remember Me
“I’m here to see Ian—uh, Mr. Hastings,” I said, unsure how I should refer to him. “My name is Maddie Stevens. I’m his assistant, and he said to meet him here.”
“Of course, Miss Stevens,” the voice said. “Come on in.”
Just a moment later, the huge wrought-iron gate swung open for me. As I drove down the tree-shrouded drive, I couldn’t help but feel like I was suddenly in a movie, heading to a rich billionaire’s house for the first time.
Which yeah…I guess should fit since I was literally doing just that.
As the trees thinned and the house came into view, I gasped. It was breathtaking, like something straight out of a storybook. The home had the elegance of an English country manor, with a soft blue shingled exterior accented by natural stone. The expansive two-story structure looked brand new yet timeless, the kind of place that demanded attention, just like Ian. Stone chimneys rose from the roofline, and a porte-cochère arched gracefully over the driveway, leading to garages tucked behind the house. Copper gutters gleamed in the afternoon sun, adding a touch of luxury to the picture-perfect scene.
As I slowly pulled up, unsure where to park, Ian stepped outside the large, navy-blue-painted front doors, his phone pressed to his ear. He gave me a quick wave and gestured for me to drive through the porte-cochère. I followed his lead, pulling into a spot by the garages.
And wow, my well-loved Subaru had never looked so out of place before. Hopefully, Ian’s house staff wouldn’t have my car towed while we were away.
Ian appeared around the corner just as I was climbing out of my car, still on the phone but smiling apologetically.
“Sorry, I got stuck on a call,” he whispered. “You can hang out inside. It won’t be too long.” He nodded toward the side entrance.
I followed him inside, stepping into a beautiful mudroom with a cozy bench and shelves neatly organized with shoes. It felt...strangely homey. Not the cold, ultra-modern bachelor pad I had half-expected.
Did Ian live here by himself? Because as we walked down the hall, I almost expected to see a couple of kids that were Grant’s age running around since it was so warm and welcoming. Like a family lived here.
He led me into the living room, a beautifully furnished space with soft lighting, fine art on the walls, and furniture that looked both expensive and comfortable. There was a gorgeous marble fireplace as the focal point of the room, and in the corner, a grand piano sat gleaming beneath the sunlight filtering through the windows.
Does Ian play the piano?I wondered.
I couldn’t picture it, but then again, there was so much I still didn’t know about him. I turned my gaze to the large windows, noticing a breathtaking view of the backyard—lush green grass, tall trees swaying gently, and a luxurious pool and hot tub nestled in one corner. It was the kind of backyard that felt like it belonged in my wildest daydreams. The kind of home I’d fantasized about one day living in, even though I knew it was far out of reach for someone like me.
I sighed softly, letting the fantasy fade.You’d have to get a massive raise to ever live in a place like this,I told myself before I could get too many ideas about having a home like this.
I turned away from the window, and after taking in the gorgeous chandeliers above, my gaze landed on the built-in shelves near the fireplace, adorned with books and minimal décor. I stepped closer, curious what kinds of books Ian might have on his shelves. But before I could inspect them, a digital photo frame caught my eye.
I stepped closer, wondering what kinds of memories Ian had on display. The first few photos that showed on the screen were from his childhood. There was a much younger version of him, he was maybe ten or so, standing proudly next to his stepdad with a basketball in his hands. Then came a photo of Ian as ateenager, wearing a tuxedo and laughing with Owen and another friend, looking like they were ready to go pick up their dates for the prom.
A small smile tugged at my lips as the images flickered across the screen. One photo showed him with his mom in a modest kitchen, the two of them mixing something in a bowl.That must have been before the billionaire days, I mused, my chest tightening at the reminder that Ian hadn’t always lived the life of luxury. Once upon a time, it had just been him and his mom—much like Grant and me—navigating the world together as a single-parent family.
The slideshow shifted to more childhood moments: a younger Ian at various events, his smile wide and carefree. Then came more recent photos—him on a yacht with friends, laughing with his sister, their faces scrunched up in goofy expressions. My heart warmed seeing this lighter side of him, so different from the powerful, focused man I worked with. There was something refreshing about catching a glimpse of Ian when he was carefree, happy, and just being himself.
And then…my heart stopped.
The next photo was different. Ian looked younger, probably college-aged, but what really caught my attention was his hair. It was buzzed short and bleached blond—a sharp contrast to the dark brown I was so used to. My breath caught in my throat as the image tugged at something deep in my memory.
A flash of a distant memory surfaced—me sitting near a bonfire on the beach next to a boy with buzzed, bleached hair. The night was warm, the air thick with the smell of salt and firewood, and I could almost hear the laughter and waves in the background.
9 Years Earlier
The bonfire flickered against the inky sky as I trailed behind my cousin Izzy and her college friends. The familiar scent of saltwater hung in the air, mingling with the wood smoke as we walked through the sand toward the beach party. It was spring break for them, but for me? It was more like an exile. I’d been shipped off to Sweet Water, North Carolina by my dad, who figured that living with Aunt Reese would somehow straighten me out after the trouble I’d gotten into back home.
His plan? Get me away from Jaxon, the college guy I’d been sneaking around with.
Joke was on him, though, since that problem wasn’t going away anytime soon.
Not unless the baby I was secretly carrying magically disappeared.
Yay for that pregnancy test I took on Monday coming back positive.
A pang twisted in my stomach, and I instinctively rested my hand there as we neared the bonfire. Izzy had begged me to come tonight, told me it’d be fun to hang out with her friends. And sure, this time last week I would have been thrilled to go a party with a bunch of college guys.
But now? Well…as much as I’d wanted to seem older and grow up faster, discovering I was pregnant when I’d barely turned seventeen wasn’t exactly how I’d wanted to “grow up.”
