บททั้งหมดของ Surrendering to my Best Friend's Dad: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

*Noland's POV*I pace restlessly in the foyer of my mansion, the calm façade I'd maintained for Lexie now cracking under the weight of my own anxiety. The familiar smell of polished wood and the soft glow of the chandelier above me offers little comfort as I wait word on Lexie's arrival in her hometown.It is already 7pm, Robert left an hour ago, Natasha went to take a shower, and I still havn't heard from Carol or Lexie. This makes me even more nervous. As I check my watch for the tenth time, I hear a car pull up in the driveway. My heart leaps as I run to the window, but it is just a delivery man dropping off a package.I return to the foyer, feeling defeated. I wait there for what feels like an eternity, before finally deciding to check my email. Maybe there would be a letter waiting from Lexie. As I walk to my studio, I hear some of arguments and loud screams outside. I instantly become alert."Mr. Reynolds," one of my security personnel walks in, his voice tense. "Mister Thoma

*Lexie’s POV*Natasha's voice is firm as she shares her decision. "I have to go back, if I really want this fashion show to happen, that is...""Of course, Tasha," I say, trying to hide the worry in my voice. "You've worked so hard for this. You're going to be amazing.""Thanks, Lex," she replies with a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "We will see… if I can handle the pressure.""Hey," I reassure her, touching her arm gently. "You're Natasha Reynolds. You can do anything.""Thanks, Lex," she says again, more softly this time. She turns away, and I feel a pang of guilt for not being able to support her as much as I wish I could right now.“Dad,” she says softly as she looks at Noland and he gets closer to her. “I will keep in touch.”With that, Natasha walks away and she leaves me and Noland alone in the room with my mother.The sterile smell of the hospital hits me as Noland and I sit side by side in the room. My heart races as I wait for any news about my moth

*Lexie’s POV*As Noland ushers me into his luxurious hotel room, I can't help but gape at the opulence surrounding me. The room is more like an upscale apartment than a temporary living space. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a breathtaking view of the city skyline, while plush furniture and expensive artwork create a sense of elegance that seems to border on decadence."Make yourself comfortable," Noland says gently, sensing my awe. His deep blue eyes seem to hold secrets that both intrigue and scare me."Thank you," I manage to stammer out, still feeling out of my element in this lavish setting. My gaze falls upon a grand piano nestled in one corner of the room, its ivory keys gleaming beneath the soft glow of a chandelier.Noland guides me through the expansive suite towards the spacious bathroom, complete with a free-standing clawfoot tub that beckons me as an oasis amidst this world of luxury. He must sense my exhaustion because he suggests that I take a bath to relax and unwi

*Natasha's POV*The soft morning light filters through the white curtains, casting a warm glow over my studio. Swatches of vibrant fabric drape over tables and chairs, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that reflect my vision for the upcoming fashion show. I'm surrounded by sketches pinned to every available surface, serving as blueprints for what I hope will be my greatest triumph.Yet my mind goes back to what I saw in New York; dad holding Lexie made my vision blur for a moment, and maybe I did not know how to react, but as I am processing it all, my stomach is twisted. My dad, and Lexie. It doesn’t make sense. How? At what time? When did it all happen?‘Come on, Tasha, focus, we have a show to run,’ I tell myself and force myself to focus my attention into the task at hand.My fingers dance over the delicate fabrics, feeling the textures that I've come to know so intimately. It's hard to believe that just a short time ago, my last fashion show ended in disaster. The memory sti

*Lexie's POV*I stand by my mother's bedside, nervously twisting a strand of my long, wavy auburn hair around my finger. Anticipation and hope pulse through the sterile hospital room like an electrical current as I watch her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath. I strain to hear the faint sounds of life emanating from her body, willing her to wake up.‘Come on, Mom,’ I whisper, fighting to keep my voice steady. ‘You can do this.’As if in response to my plea, something shifts within her. Her face, which has been frozen in peaceful repose for weeks, contorts ever so slightly, the muscles twitching beneath her pallid skin. My heart races wildly, pounding against my ribcage as I realize what's happening."Mom?" I question hesitantly, hardly daring to believe it. "Can you hear me?"Her eyelids begin to flutter, and then, as though breaking free from a deep sleep, her eyes open slowly. They are unfocused at first, but gradually, they come to rest on me, filled with recognition