Mr. Denver: The Version You Didn't Hear

Chapter 25

Tim was already sipping his tea when I stepped out to the garden. The sun was barely up, but I hadn’t slept well—not after last night. Not after seeing the engagement ring off her finger and resting cold on her nightstand.

“Good morning, Jacob,” he said, patting the seat next to him like we were old friends catching up.

I offered a faint smile. “Morning.”

His eyes landed on my hand—the one holding Catherine’s ring. “What’s wrong with the ring? Too big?”

I stared at it a second longer. “No. She took it off last night. Left it on the table. I’m just... admiring it.” Tim didn’t miss the weight behind my words.

“If you think she’s backing out,” he said gently, “she’s not.” I looked at him. He seemed so confident, so calm, as if none of this was fragile or terrifying. But it was—for me, and I suspected, for Catherine too.

“You can’t blame us for thinking about it,” I replied. “This whole marriage started as an arrangement. There’s no love between us. Not really.”

He chuckled, sipping his tea. “Even if the invitations are out, you both can still back out. Joe and I only want what’s best for you. At the end of the day, the marriage is your choice.” I looked up at the sky, at the early morning clouds still trying to wake up. “I don’t think you and Joe would let us walk away that easily.”

Tim smiled slyly. “Now you’re letting yourself have second thoughts?”

“Maybe.”

“You should.” I turned to him, surprised by his candor.

“You’re confident about this.”

“Oh, very. I’ve been in your shoes,” he said with a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “I was arranged to marry Catherine’s grandmother.”

“And you fell in love?” I asked.

“Hopelessly,” he said. “Hard to let her go even now.”

I sighed. “But what if Catherine and I don’t make it? What if we end up divorced and hating each other?”

Tim leaned back and said something that struck deep. “Stop predicting the future, Jacob. Live in the now.”

“But marriage is a big deal.” That’s when I heard her voice behind me. “Then let’s cancel the marriage.” My heart dropped. I turned, and there she was Catherine, standing in her pajamas, arms crossed, her tone ice-cold.

Tim stood up slowly, taking his cup with him. “I’ll let you two settle this.”

She sat down in his seat, letting out a bitter laugh. “I’m sick of this conversation, Jacob.”

“Of what? The back-and-forth?” I shot back, frustrated.

“Let’s just not get married.”

I laughed dryly. “Why? You running back to Eden again?” Her glare could have killed me.

“I’m not. Why do you keep throwing that in my face?”

“Then why are you so ready to call everything off?”

“You’re the one who’s been hesitating!” she shouted. “You never even told me about the choice our grandfathers gave you—marry now or wait a year!”

I stood, the ring still clutched in my hand. “Then why was this on the table?” I raised it up. “You’re clearly reconsidering everything.” She narrowed her eyes and raised her left hand. A bandage was wrapped around her ring finger.

“I burned my finger cooking yesterday. I took the ring off so I wouldn’t irritate it.”

I froze. “I thought…”

“Yeah, you thought.” She stared at me, furious and hurt. “I was practicing making pasta—for you. And I burned myself in the process. But you were too busy making assumptions.”

“What about Eden?”

“That was my brother, Cameron, playing a prank. Eden’s gone. I blocked him. Why are you so dramatic about this?” She started to walk off, but I caught her wrist and pulled her onto my lap before she could escape.

“No Eden?” I asked again, softer this time.

She rolled her eyes and tried to wriggle free, but I held her tightly.

“I’m a very jealous man, Catherine.”

“No kidding,” she snapped. “You’re also a liar. You didn’t tell me about the wedding date choice, and you never even asked what I wanted.”

“How did you find out?”

“You don’t need to know,” she said, eyes flashing. “But I’ve decided—we’re postponing the wedding.”

“No,” I said firmly.

“I want to learn the business. You have your own company to deal with. A year will give us time to decide if we even want this.” I didn’t hesitate.

“We’re getting married in two weeks. Whether you like it or not.”

She scoffed. “Then go find another bride.”

“Not happening.”

“What if I say I don’t want to marry you?” she challenged, arching a brow.

“Then you owe me something,” I said suddenly, the words forming on instinct.

She blinked. “What? Money? Shares?”

I smiled faintly, leaning in.

“No. An heir.”

Her jaw dropped.

“What?”

“You don’t want the marriage? Fine, but give me a child.” She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. Because I didn’t want the child as leverage. I wanted her and I was running out of excuses to pretend otherwise.