who’d changed my life, but I also didn’t want to disrupt family time since I knew how rarely Wyatt got it.
But then Mr. Nash’s words finally registered. He’d said Wyatt wasn’t home. Did he mean from the doctor? That couldn’t be right. His appointment was early this morning and Dr. Lang wasn’t that far outside town. I’d assumed that’s where he’d gone. That’s where all the Northwood jocks went.
Maybe he was visiting his grandparents again.
Oh no! Was that why Mr. Nash was here? Had something happened to Wyatt’s grandparents?
My heart was in my throat as I tried to rein in my runaway thoughts. I needed to just knock on the door and get some answers before I drove myself nuts. It’s not like Mr. Nash wasn’t expecting me after my cringe-worthy declarations on the intercom.
Too late to turn back now.
I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart and pressed the doorbell, jumping back at the noise. I’d been expecting a normal doorbell chime, but there was nothing normal about it. Instead, it sounded like I’d just announced the British were coming, as cathedral bells rang through the house, echoing across the massive grounds.
I winced, wondering when I’d ever get it through my thick head to expect the unexpected when it came to Wyatt. I mean look at this place—of course it didn’t have a normal doorbell.
Sighing, I clutched tighter to the box of donuts in my hands, preparing to meet Mr. Nash. I was probably about to make a huge fool of myself in front of him. But you know what? I didn’t even care. I’d tasted pure happiness today and I needed more of it.
I knew what I wanted now, and I was prepared to wait here until Wyatt walked through these very doors so I could tell him so.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Layne
“So, Layne, is it?” Mr. Nash asked, settling deeper into his large wing-backed chair.
“Yes, sir,” I replied politely.
We were in what was probably called the drawing room or winter study or something grand and ridiculous. I’d never been in this room before, but it had obviously been designed to intimidate with its massive stone fireplace and dark wood.
Mr. Nash sat near the crackling fire and I sat across from him. The divide between us was as vast as it felt. I’d had warmer college interviews than this!
“And how did you say you know my son?”
“I’m his partner for the NRSDA competition.”
I watched Mr. Nash’s dark eyebrows knit together. He looked so much like his son, yet so unalike. It was the most peculiar thing to look at someone who looked just like a person I was so fond of yet possessed none of the qualities.
It wasn’t that Mr. Nash was unlikeable. Aloof was a better word, and maybe self-important. And that wasn’t just because he didn’t know who I was. But we’d been sitting here making small talk for the past few minutes and it was becoming increasingly clear that he knew nothing about what was going on in his son’s life.
He hadn’t even known Wyatt had a doctor appointment today!
So, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when he looked bewildered by the news that his son was in a singing competition.
“Why does that name ring a bell?” he asked. “Wait. Is that the new show Post Malone is hosting? I was just talking to him about that. Are you two trying out?”
“No. NRSDA is the Northeast Regional Scholarship for the Dramatic Arts. You know, the program your wife is co-sponsoring,” I said, no longer trying to hide my annoyance. I knew I was being sassy, but I couldn’t help it. How could this guy be so clueless?
“Ah, yes. That’s right. I knew it sounded familiar.”
But I wasn’t so sure he did. How could he be so out of touch about what went on in his own family? No wonder Wyatt was always mad at his dad. He deserved a better one.
“So,” Mr. Nash said. “Wyatt’s competing? How did that happen?”
“I needed a singing partner. It’s kind of a long story. Maybe you should ask him about it,” I offered.
“Maybe I will.” A very Wyatt-like smirk spread across Mr. Nash’s face as he shook his head with amusement. “Singing, huh? I didn’t think he had it in him.”
That was it. Something in me snapped. “You’re joking right? Your son is an incredibly talented musician. I don’t know where my songs would be without him.”
“Ah, so you’re a musician?” he asked, like suddenly everything made sense to