Chapter Fourteen #2
“Monster smut?” Dad asked, a furrow forming between his brows.
Grace cringed. “I’m not explaining this to Dad. Mom, you can do it, but later. Like after we’re gone later.”
“Maybe we can pick one up when Adele re-opens the bookshop again.” Mom grinned at Dad. “We could add it to the books we’ve been reading together.”
“God, Mom. Just … No.” Wyatt groaned.
Marc stared at his plate, his longish, wavy, dirty-blonde hair swung forward.
Ellie pressed a hand to her mouth, giggling so hard she snorted. It was the kind of laugh you didn’t fake, and seeing her share it with my family carved out something fierce into my chest.
I made a gagging sound. “Mom, not in front of Ellie. She does not need to know about the steamy books you and Dad read to each other.”
The smile slid from Ellie’s lips and her face paled before turning pink.
“There’s nothing wrong with them reading books like that.” The words burst out of her before I could ask if she was okay.
“Of course there isn’t.” I’m sure I was looking at her like she had ten heads.
“I just don’t need to know what my parents are using to spice up their sex lives.
” It surprised me and delighted me that she challenged what I’d said with such ferocity.
If she could stand up to me there was hope she’d eventually get there with her family.
“Oh.” That flush that had started on her cheeks was more of a five alarm fire spreading across her face. Something I said hit her the wrong way and I was not about to let miscommunication throw us for a loop.
Mom put a hand on Ellie’s arm. “Thank you for defending us, sweetie.”
Wyatt cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. “So how do you like working for Drew?” I wasn’t mad at how quickly he changed the subject. At least not until I could figure out what upset Ellie.
She didn’t even hesitate. “It’s been the best job I’ve ever had.
Drew is seriously the most amazing boss and everyone there has been so welcoming.
I love seeing the company through his eyes.
Anytime we discuss the expansion, I can see how hard he works for Kingsley Jewelry, not because he has to, but because it means so much to him. ”
I laughed off what she said. “You’re just trying to be nice instead of saying I’m a workaholic.”
A solid kick hit my shoe.
My startled glance met her steely one. “I wasn’t and yes, you are, but you’re passionate about what you do and you want to do it well. Putting in the long hours is what’s going to get you across the finish line.”
My mouth snapped shut.
A sly, knowing smile tipped up the corner of Grace’s mouth.
Mom jumped in to fill the silence. “Ellie, how can we help while your family is here?”
“Honestly, the fact that you’re on board with our fake relationship is so helpful. I thought my sister was going to call me out on it within five minutes of her arriving, but Drew and I were able to salvage it.”
“Are there any details about your relationship we need to know?” Grace asked, her enthusiasm clear by how she bounced around in her seat. “I’ve always loved acting.”
Wyatt mumbled something under his breath likely about the ninth grade play we’d had to endure with Grace as an extra. She was not a natural on stage.
“We’re trying to stick as closely as we can to the truth,” I said. “We met at work, felt something for each other, and started dating within six weeks of meeting. It’s been a long distance relationship mostly, with a few quick visits in between.”
“Did you come here for the visits?” Dad asked. He was good at parsing out the small details.
“What do you think?” Ellie looked at me.
“I went to you. That way if anyone in town is asked if they’d seen you before it won’t be strange if they say this visit is the first time.”
“Good thinking.” She held up her hand for a high-five.
I smacked it and grinned at her. We had this in the bag.
“When did we first meet you?” Marc asked.
“Maybe we did a face-to-face call online when Drew came to see me for the first time?”
I nodded. “Definitely. I’d have wanted them to meet you as soon as possible since I was so smitten with you, honeybee.”
She laughed. “You’re sweet and as for that nickname … maybe.”
“Ohh, are you two trying to come up with names for each other? We should make a list and vote on it. Or maybe we can even come up with a cool couple’s name.” Grace’s voice sped up the more excited she became.
“No!” Ellie and I both shouted, then started laughing uncontrollably.
“Drellie,” Ellie giggled.
I scrunched up my nose. “Ell-ew.”
Ellie snorted.
“I feel like there’s a story there.” Mom leaned back in her chair, her gaze switching between us with a tiny knowing smile quirking her lips.
Once we finally were able to control ourselves and quieted down, Ellie leaned in and asked, “So what do you all think I should know about Drew?”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing. You know all the important things already.”
“Now, Drew. I think Ellie deserves to know what she’s getting into.” Wyatt grinned at me from across the table. “Every Halloween from ages six to twelve, Drew dressed up as Dad.”
I groaned, already knowing where this was headed.
“Full business suit—jacket too big, tie dragging on the ground because he wouldn’t let anyone help him, briefcase and everything. He’d go trick-or-treating and insist on organizing his candy by type. Color-coded categories, alphabetical order within each section. He was that kid.”
Ellie’s laugh burst out, bright and happy. “Please tell me you have pictures. I bet he looked adorable.”
“Oh, we have pictures,” Wyatt assured her.
“I was preparing for inventory management,” I defended weakly.
“You were eight when you made a spreadsheet for your Snickers-to-Reese’s ratio,” Wyatt countered.
“A spreadsheet?” Ellie looked at me, eyebrows raised. “At eight?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “It seemed logical at the time.”
“Oh, me next!” Grace waved her hand around wildly. “When I was five, Drew would play dress-up with me. I’d put every single piece of Mom’s jewelry on him—necklaces, bracelets, rings, the works.
“Oh, no,” I muttered.
“One time I got this massive statement necklace clasped but couldn’t get it off.”
“Oh, I remember this,” Wyatt interjected, laughing.
“He had to wear it to his eighth-grade baseball game,” Grace continued mercilessly. “This giant, gaudy thing with purple crystals kept bouncing against his chest every time he ran. His teammates never let him live it down.”
“Why didn’t you tell her no?” Ellie asked, her eyes dancing with amusement.
I looked at Grace—her grin and mischief in her eyes—and shrugged. “I couldn’t disappoint her.”
“That’s actually really sweet,” Ellie said softly, and her foot tapped mine under the table.
“I’ve got a story.” Marc winked at me, which I guessed was code for ‘not as an embarrassing story.’ Although his view of that and mine differed greatly. “When I was ten, I found a scraggly stray cat behind the school. Drew helped me smuggle it home in my backpack.”
“Oh this should be good,” Ellie leaned, a sweet smile teasing her lips.
I shook my head. “That was the day we learned cats do not like baths.”
Wyatt winced, likely remembering that day too. “We kept it hidden in the garage for three days, taking turns sneaking it food. Dad found us because Drew had created an entire care schedule—feeding times, litter box cleaning, all of it—and left it next to the printer.”
Dad chuckled. “The organizational skills gave him away. What twelve-year-old makes a laminated feeding schedule?”
“Laminated?” Ellie repeated, turning to me with barely-contained delight.
“I wanted to make sure the cat was properly cared for,” I protested. “If we were going to do it, we should do it right.”
“Even when you were breaking the rules, you were making spreadsheets,” she said, giggling. “That’s very on-brand for you. Did you keep the cat?”
I didn’t love that I had to suffer through an embarrassing memory lane trip, but I’d do it again just to see the joy lighting up Ellie’s face right now.
“Snuggles lived to be eighteen,” Marc said. “Drew made him a collar with a tiny nameplate from scrap metal in the workshop.”
“Of course he did,” Ellie said, her voice warm and affectionate.
“Now Ellie, our Drew, is multi-talented. When he was six, he’d sit at my home worktable for hours while I designed for the fun of it,” Mom said, and I felt my neck heat up knowing where this was going.
She had this look on her face—the one she got when she was about to embarrass me with a story she found adorable. “He had this little set of pliers and wire I’d given him, and he’d make the most elaborate creations.”
“They were terrible,” I muttered, but couldn’t suppress a smile at those twisted wire monstrosities.
“They were ambitious,” Mom corrected, like she always did. “One day he made this ring—if you could call it that. More like a tangled bird’s nest of copper wire with a button hot-glued on top.”
I dropped my head into my hands.
“He presented it to me so seriously,” Mom continued her voice growing soft, “and said, ‘Mom this is for you. It’s called, ‘For The Best Mom Ever.’”
I glanced up to find Ellie’s hand pressed to her chest, her expression melting.
“I wore it for a week straight,” Mom said. “It turned my finger green and caught on everything, but he was so proud.”
“I still can’t believe you wore it.” Mom had been the catalyst to a hobby I’d since pushed aside after deciding to pursue business in college instead.
“Every single day. You made it for me, so of course I did.” Mom’s smile was gentle. “Then one morning at breakfast, you asked if I’d teach you to do it the ‘real way.’ So we started designing together. Every Saturday morning, just the two of us.”
The memories flooded back—those Saturday mornings at her worktable, the scents of her coffee and my coffee milk, the quiet focus of creating something with our hands.
Even though Mom stopped working at Kingsley Jewelry soon after I was born, she kept her joy of making jewelry alive by tinkering at home and then passed that joy onto me.
“That’s when I fell in love with it,” I admitted, my voice coming out quieter than I’d intended. “Watching Mom take an idea and turn it into something tangible. Something that could mean a great deal to someone else.”
“Drew, I had no idea you created jewelry too,” Ellie said, awe lacing her words. “Do you ever want to pick it back up again?.”
I shrugged. “I haven’t done it in years. The business-side of Kingsley Jewelry is where I want to be.”
Mom glanced at me, her mouth opening and then closing.
She and I had this discussion over the years.
She thought I’d reacted too hastily when I decided to walk away from jewelry design.
I thought it was the best way to help our family’s company.
We still didn’t see eye-to-eye with that, but like all things, Mom respected my decision.
Ellie let out a huge yawn. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry. It’s not you all, I promise. I struggled to sleep last night.”
Worrying about her family was likely the cause. I hated them more and more on behalf of my sweet fake girlfriend.
Dad checked his watch. “It is getting pretty late. Who knew two hours could pass so quickly?”
Two hours? Having Ellie here with my family had been effortless.
“Let me help you clean up before we go.” Ellie stood and started gathering her dishes.
Mom placed her hand over Ellie’s to stop her from continuing. “Next time. You’ve had a long day.”
“You cooked. It’s only fair.” And of course Ellie protested, because she was a good person.
“Mom’s stubborn. You better do what she says to stay in her good graces.” Wyatt advised.
I grinned as I stood too. “Wyatt’s right.”
“How about dessert?” Mom asked, getting up to retrieve a to-go container she’d left on the counter. She quickly cut pieces of apple pie and carefully laid them inside the plastic box.
I took the dessert from her and rested my other hand on Ellie’s lower back. “Tell Glamma we’ll see her tomorrow.”
Ellie glanced around at my family. “Thank you so much for having me. Dinner was perfect and so was the company. You all are so warm and welcoming. Probably more than I deserve since I’ve pulled your son into my family’s drama.”
“Nonsense,” Mom said. “Now give me a hug and the two of you take off while you can.”
Ellie hugged her without hesitation this time, holding on a little tighter. Once Ellie let go, she moved around the table, hugging Dad, and Grace, who whooped and declared it an ‘Ellie initiation.’
By the time she reached me, her cheeks were flushed from laughter, but her eyes were happy.
Mom leaned in as she hugged me last. “I like her. A lot.”
“I do, too,” I admitted.
And God help me, I meant it more than I should.