He's not my dad

part 21

I pushed open the door to the small bistro across the street from the office, spotting Chuck already waiting at a corner table. He gave me a lopsided grin and a wave, looking impossibly relaxed. I tried to return the smile, though my nerves made my stomach twist into knots. Today wasn’t just lunch—it was lunch with Greg Groves.

I slid into the booth across from Chuck just as his father, Greg, arrived. He gave me a polite nod, but his eyes were sharp, assessing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was already forming an opinion of me.

“Taylor,” he said, voice even and controlled.

“Sir,” I replied, trying to keep my tone professional.

Chuck reached over and squeezed my hand, giving me an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry. He’s… intense, but he’s fair.”

“Intense” was putting it mildly. Greg sat down, his posture impeccable, his eyes never leaving mine for long. The silence was heavy at first, only broken by the waiter arriving to take our orders. I grabbed a sparkling water, trying not to spill my nerves all over the table.

“So,” Greg began, leaning back slightly, “I understand you two have… been seeing each other?”

I nodded carefully. “Yes. Casually, sir. We’ve been keeping things… light.”

He studied me for a long moment. “Casually… hmm.” There was a pause, and I could feel my pulse quicken under his steady gaze.

Chuck jumped in, grinning. “We’ve been honest with each other, Dad. No one’s pretending anything—we just enjoy spending time together.”

Greg’s eyes flicked to him, narrow but thoughtful. “I see. And how did you meet her?”

Chuck’s smile didn’t falter. “We met outside the office she literally fell at the sight of me"

I roll my eyes.

“And… when was this?” Greg asked, still calm, but the way he said it made my skin prickle.

“About a month ago,” Chuck replied promptly.

“We’ve been careful not to let it interfere with work. Honestly, Dad, she didn't even know I worked on the same building as her or that I was your son until today"

“Hmm,” he murmured. “And what do you see in each other?”

I fidgeted slightly in my seat. Chuck’s hand found mine under the table and squeezed gently. “We… connect,” he said simply. “We have fun together, we respect each other, and… well, we like each other a lot.”

Greg’s piercing eyes stayed on me.
“Respect… important,” he said. “And you, Miss White, are you… comfortable with this? With dating someone in the company’s leadership circle?”

“I am,” I said, nodding, trying to sound confident. “Chuck is honest, and I like him. It’s been fun, and… it's all very new"

Greg gave a small nod, almost imperceptible, but I could tell he was mentally filing everything away. Then, as if testing us further, he asked, “Do you two discuss… your future? Or is this purely… recreational?”

Chuck laughed lightly, a little embarrassed, but answered honestly. “We haven’t made grand plans. But we care about each other, and we communicate. I think that’s enough for now. We’re both busy people.”

Greg leaned back, hands folded, eyes moving between us. “Communication… good. Honesty… essential. I can respect that.” His voice softened slightly, though the scrutiny remained.

The rest of the lunch passed with small talk—light jokes, food orders, polite conversation—but I could feel his gaze on me the entire time, analyzing, measuring. Chuck seemed relaxed, chatting casually about his band, the city, random office stories, and I could see the occasional softening in his dad’s expression whenever Chuck laughed.

Chuck leaned over and kissed my cheek gently. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

I laughed nervously. “Easy for you to say. He asked me about… everything.”

“He’s thorough,” Chuck said with a wink. “But you survived.”

Greg gave a faint, almost approving nod as he stood. “Take care of her,” he said, voice softening slightly. “And keep your heads about you. Both of you.”

As he walked away, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Chuck squeezed my hand. “You did great,” he said, smiling.

I shook my head, laughing, shaking off the tension. “Yeah… barely. But I survived. Barely.”

And for the first time all lunch, I felt like maybe this unusual, awkward, high-profile romance wasn’t entirely doomed.

......

I met Bree at yoga after work, and it felt good to see her again. The tension between us from the past week had mostly melted away, and I was ready to fill her in on all the chaos from the office.

“You are not going to believe this,” I said, rolling up my mat. “Chuck… he’s Greg’s son.”

Bree nearly dropped her water bottle. “Wait, the Greg Groves? CEO Greg?”

I nodded. “Yep. And lunch was… awkward, to say the least. I think he was trying to interrogate me, but Chuck handled it like a champ. I don’t even know how I survived.”

Bree laughed, shaking her head. “Girl, don’t worry about his dad. You’re amazing, and Chuck obviously knows it. That’s what matters.”

I changed the subject, wanting to shift to something more serious. “So… have you and Noel spoken?”

Her expression fell. She sighed, and I could see the weight on her shoulders. “Yeah. I told him about… everything. Other men. He broke up with me.”

I wrapped her in a tight hug. She clung to me, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s the right decision,” she whispered, wiping them away. “I just… I didn’t want to admit it, but it was time.”

We finished our session and headed out, still talking, laughing, and decompressing from the week. Our next stop? The bar where Chuck’s band was playing.
The moment we walked in, the energy hit me. Loud music, a crowd moving as one, and then I saw him—Chuck, on stage, completely in his element. He caught my eye almost immediately, and the way he smiled made my stomach flutter. He was all over me tonight, his usual playful teasing mixed with an intensity I hadn’t seen before.
As the first song kicked in, he played like the crowd didn’t exist. But I knew they did—because every note, every movement, every glance toward me screamed that this performance was his love letter to me. The crowd went wild, but all I could do was scream and dance, grinning like a fool as I threw my arms in the air.

When the song ended, he looked at me and winked, thanking the crowd before announcing, “We are now officially called… The Rich Kids!

He spun me around as soon as he reached me, his fingers brushing mine. “You were right about the band name,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

I laughed. “Then you owe me a drink.”

He smiled that wicked smile I couldn’t resist and nodded. “Deal.”

Bree and I sat with the band after the set, chatting about their upcoming low-budget tour across America. They were buzzing with excitement about hitting every dive bar from coast to coast, playing for small crowds and living out their dream.

I turned to Chuck. “So… this is for real? You’re actually leaving?”

He nodded, a hint of regret in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll be on the road with the band for a few months. Van life, dive bars, the works. I’ve got to do this.”

I felt a pang, mixed with pride. He was chasing his dream, and I couldn’t be mad. “Well… I guess I’ll just have to survive without my personal rock god for a while,” I teased.

He laughed, brushing a stray curl from my face. “You’ll survive. And don’t worry… I’ll make sure to send updates from the road.”
As the band launched into another song, I found myself smiling like an idiot. Chuck was up there, performing for the world, but somehow it felt like he was performing just for me. And for a moment, everything else—the office drama, Bree’s heartbreak, my own chaos—faded away.
This was us, in our own little world, dancing, laughing, and just… living.