Chapter Fifteen
ELLIE
Houses blurred into streaks of light as we drove towards Drew’s. The soft rush of the tires and the shifting scenery pulled me deeper into my own thoughts, creating a hypnotic effect and putting me in a self-reflective state of mind.
I was head-over-heels in love with Drew’s family.
Everything about them was what I’d always dreamed of having for myself. And even if I only got a few nights with them out of this deal, I’d be eternally grateful. Now I knew for sure that the families I grew up watching on TV really did exist in real life.
It amazed me that my life and my views of what I’d accept as the bare minimum had changed so much in three days.
I vowed to myself that someday I’d have all this family goodness for myself.
Nothing else would do. And I refused to settle for less.
They gave me hope that I could be surrounded by that much love and support every single day.
With Drew, Bad Eleanor whispered, but was she really all that bad when she was just admitting the truth?
Or the truth I wished could be my reality?
Even if all we’d done was kiss, Drew had left an impression on my heart, one that would remain.
He was my yardstick: my dream guy and the man I’d compare all others to.
Drew pulled into the garage of a shaker-style duplex.
A total of six mirror-image homes lined each side of the street and were grouped in sets of two.
His was on the end. The medium-gray exterior blended with the private front porches that featured grand square columns made of stone on the bottom half and white wood on the top.
Beautifully arranged planters with fall foliage dressed up the exterior.
The large, evenly spaced window made his place look welcoming, and I felt instantly at home.
I glanced nervously at him. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”
He shrugged. “That’s what good boyfriends are for.”
“Drew, seriously.” There weren’t enough ways or hours in the day to truly explain to him how much I appreciated every little thing he was doing for me.
“I know.” A shadow lingered under his eyes, more pronounced in the faint garage light. He stared at me like there was something he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to say it.
Was he feeling something for me, too? I knew he had to be attracted to me. There was no way to fake the physical response from him when we kissed. All I had to do was ask. Right? We were friends and if I was bold enough maybe we could be more than the ‘fake’ label we’d given ourselves.
“Drew … ”
“Yeah?”
Panic rushed from the top of my head to my toes. A coldness, like a waterfall of icy cold water, froze my veins. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t chance losing him. Losing this, even if it wasn’t real.
I wanted to revel in whatever this was between us before I had to come crashing back down to reality.
“Thanks again. I know I already said that, but I mean it. You’ve been great.
Like Olympic-gold medal great. Champion of rolling-with-the-punches great.
Honestly, just fantastic.” I snapped my mouth shut before it could betray me further.
Abort. Abort.
“You’re welcome.” He tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel like he could type out an SOS message. “Let’s go inside. Glamma texted and said she put your suitcases in the guest room.”
“Right. Inside. Mm-hm.” Casual. Nailed it.
We headed in, and he did the tour-guide thing. “Kitchen, dining room, fridge, cabinets—you can help yourself.” His house was narrow with a living room behind the kitchen and a powder room beneath the staircase. It was modern and the perfect size for one or two people.
“Perfect,” I chirped.
Why did it suddenly feel like we were on a very boring Airbnb walkthrough instead of whatever … this was?
He smiled awkwardly. “I apologize for the state of my place. I have more packed boxes than unpacked, and even less furniture, which thankfully is coming Friday.”
“It’s totally fine.” His sparsely-furnished townhome was the least of my worries.
We walked side-by-side down the hall toward the stairs. Each step up echoed like a countdown to disaster. Thirteen original steps seemed like a hundred, each one reminding me that this was the floor where his bedroom was.
At the top, we froze.
“That’s my room.” He pointed. “Before that is a closet with a washer and dryer.”
“Perfect. I’m sure I’ll need that.” Gah. Then I realized ‘perfect’ was the only word I managed to keep saying all day, like a broken doll with limited settings.
“My office will go there.” He gestured to the open space before us.
“Cool.” I said. My brain had clearly vacated and was now mocking me from afar. I needed to say something funny or smart. Not just cool.
“Your bedroom’s there on the left. I have a mattress on the floor. Glamma put sheets and blankets on it for you. And I got most of the boxes out of there, so you don’t need to deal with that.”
“Awesome.”
Kill me now.
“Perfect,” I added. I wanted to fling myself off the staircase.
He started toward my end of the hall, but panic made me grab his arm. “It’s fine. Bedroom. Bathroom. I’ve got it. And I can proudly say I’ve used both before. I mean—not yours, obviously. I’m not like creeping around your house when you’re not home or anything. Okay. Wow. I’m going to shut up now.”
He stuck his hands in his back pockets and rocked on his heels, making me think of his cousin the night we met.
Which reminded me, I had a message from Adam that I hadn’t listened to today.
A slow grin spread across Drew’s face—boyish and completely charmed rather than horrified by my verbal disaster.
“You know,” he said, his voice warm with barely suppressed laughter, “for someone who handles my entire schedule and keeps a multi-million dollar expansion on track, you’re surprisingly bad at this.”
“Bad at what? Being a normal human?” I buried my face in my hands. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
His laugh broke free then, rich and genuine.
“I meant at pretending you’re not nervous.
But for the record, I’m terrible at this, too.
” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I watched the color creep up from his collar.
“I’ve been internally debating how to show you around without sounding like an awkward tour guide. ”
I peeked through my fingers. “Really?”
“Really.” His grin turned sheepish. “And I definitely rambled at Grace for ten minutes earlier about whether the mattress on the floor was weird or if I should have rush-ordered a frame, and she told me I was overthinking it, which—” He gestured vaguely at the space between us. “Clearly, we both are.”
The tightness in my chest loosened. “We’re a mess.”
“A well-matched mess.” Then he stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.
A hug.
Bad Eleanor squealed with glee. Go soft, melt into him, this is your moment! While my body went: pat-pat, like he was a mailman delivering a package.
As soon as he let go, I wanted to dive back in and yell, “Do-over!”
Instead, I blurted out “Right. Goodnight.”
We opened our doors in unison and looked back at each other. Awkward standoff. I panicked and gave him a finger wave. A finger wave. Who even does that? Grandmas and cartoon chipmunks, that’s who.
Then I fled inside, shut the door, and immediately sank to the floor. My head fell forward, hands over my face.
See, that right there was why I didn’t get the guy. I was all finger waves and bathroom jokes while my sister was probably out there batting her lashes and smelling like Chanel.
After a few minutes of my pity party, like a sulking toddler denied their favorite chocolate cupcake, I dragged myself up and swiped my hand along the wall until I found the light switch.
Click.
The room lit up, and I froze.
Blinked.
Then rubbed at my eyes to make sure I was actually seeing what I was seeing.
Drew had said there were a few boxes in here, right?
Because in front of me was not a few. It was an entire warehouse! Piles were stacked to the ceiling, towers teetering like drunk Jenga pieces, and me one wrong step away from starring in a very tragic, “Woman crushed under mysterious cardboard avalanche" headline.
I was sure my sister would feel as though I’d upstaged her week purposely, I thought wryly.
And all those boxes wouldn’t be a problem. I was flexible. Easygoing. A go-with-the-flow, roll with the punches kind of girl most of the time.
Except … There was no mattress.
Not even an old metal cot with a thin mattress like the one we had at our house as kids. Not even a sad air mattress that you know would deflate in the middle of night and leave me waking up like a human taco.
I did not want to interrupt Drew in his bedroom. Sweat beaded my brow thinking about what he was doing to get ready for bed right now.
I bent to pick up a box—because maybe, maybe the bed was hidden underneath or behind it and instantly regretted the decision. The thing nearly ripped my arms out of their sockets. Off balance, I slammed shoulder-first into another stack, which rocked ominously.
I stepped back. “What in the ever-loving hell is this?” I hissed, bracing my hands up like I could somehow stop the mystery boxes with the strength of my spaghetti arms.
I grunted and shoved a few boxes around, but most were ridiculously heavy. Like, Drew secretly hoarded anvils heavy. Others rattled every time I tilted them, like maracas at a toddler music class, knowing it was a 50/50 chance one of these boxes would leave me with a concussion.
And no matter how many I shifted—still, no mattress.
Freaking fantastic.
What about the bathroom? Maybe I could sleep in the tub.
The closet? Nope, blocked by more boxes.
Then the floor was the last option available. Well, almost the last. If I squished myself into a tiny patch on the carpet not occupied by Mount Cardboard, I’d be fine.
I looked around. Where was my luggage? Glamma had sworn it was in here. Then again, Glamma had also said she’d “made the bed.”
Uh-huh. Bed, my ass.