Chapter Twenty-Eight
DREW
After Marc and Delaney’s booths, we stopped by to see Wyatt.
“Hello, sweet Ellie,” Wyatt crooned, clutching his chest. “When are you going to ditch my brother and give me a chance?”
If I wasn’t one hundred percent sure my little brother was needling me, I’d have punched him.
Ellie gave him a soft, indulgent smile—the kind that made me both proud and jealous. “Hey, Wyatt. Did you design these?” She gestured to the bins of temporary tattoos set around the table.
“I did. See anything you like?” He winked. Everything he said seemed like an innuendo.
While Ellie searched through the intricate tattoos, I leaned closer to Wyatt. “Marc got stuck next to Delaney.”
Wyatt groaned. “I swear Glamma made that happen. After you left family dinner, she stopped by while Marc was grumbling about a recent encounter with her. I think she’s deliberately poking the bear.”
I shook my head. “She needs to stop interfering.”
Wyatt grunted and flicked his glance toward Ellie, who was holding up a bookish tattoo to the light. “Seems to be working out for you.”
I swallowed hard. He wasn’t wrong. “Yeah.”
As I watched her, I had a realization. I wanted to ask her if she wanted to make our relationship real.
But how could I be sure she wanted it, too?
Ellie waved the tattoos she picked at me and grinned. God, I loved that smile.
Never mind about being sure. I needed to go for it. Put my worries aside, and just do it. Despite my concerns about not having enough time to give to a serious real relationship, I didn’t want to pretend anymore.
Now to find the perfect time and place to ask.
Ellie glanced at a table a few spaces down from Wyatt. “Adele’s got a bookstore booth. Mind if I run over and ask her about hosting my release? If I don’t do it now, I’ll lose my nerve.”
I liked that she was already planning to be back here in a few months. That was a good sign. “You’ve got this.” I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Your book will be amazing. If you don’t ask her, I’ll drag you there myself.”
She rolled her eyes playfully, then handed Wyatt her chosen tattoos before heading off.
The second she was out of earshot, he dropped the cocky grin. “Dude. You get to have a personal life. She’s fucking perfect for you. You think Dad cares if you’re in the office a hundred hours a week?”
My brother didn’t get it. He never had. “It’s not about Dad.
I worked my ass off to earn my spot. No one’s going to say I was handed this role.
Especially after I made that awful design choice the first time they let me lead a project.
Now we’re expanding for the first time in twenty years. If I lose momentum, I lose everything.”
In my early twenties, I was rising through the ranks and was given the lead on the Ruby Night logo for that year.
I wanted to design it myself to prove myself as an artist, and I also had the brilliant idea to offer the design as a commemorative pin and necklace.
Only the way it turned out, the horizontal marquise ruby and its concentric diamond and ruby outer layers looked less like the intended sunset reflected on the river and more like a woman’s, er—personal part.
Needless to say, the pin sold well but the necklace didn’t.
It was a total flop, and the company lost a lot of money.
I blamed myself, and since then I made sure I worked harder than anyone in the company to prove I earned each position on my way up the Kingsley ladder.
Wyatt pressed. “So what if it takes longer?” Wyatt tilted his chin toward Ellie, who was laughing with Adele. “Someone as awesome as she is won’t wait around forever.”
His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I also didn’t miss the way he stared a second too long at Adele while he spoke words about Ellie.
I had a feeling his message might not have been just for me.
“You and Ad—” I started, but he raised his hand to cut me off.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said tightly.
“And now who’s being a stupid ass,” I teased.
He punched my arm, quick and sharp. “When are you coming in to start your sleeve?”
“Soon,” I muttered. I’d given him an intricate design for my right arm a few months back, but I’d been too busy with work to begin the process.
Ellie returned, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. She jumped into my arms before I could brace myself. I caught her and kissed her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I did it,” she whispered against my lips. “The release party’s on the calendar.”
Pride swelled in my chest. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”
And I was. Watching her choose herself—something her family never let her do—was addictive.
I wanted to be the one who kept her believing she could.
Five hours later, I was full of doughboys, cider, and at least three kinds of meat on a stick.
My stomach should’ve hated me, but walking with Ellie made everything feel lighter.
She touched everything at the artisan booths with reverence, her fingers brushing wood carvings and jewelry displays like they were treasures.
I’d bought all the things she lingered over.
At first she protested, but as the day wore on, she accepted the gifts.
It was like no one had ever given her presents before. And that thought didn’t sit right in my chest.
“We’ve got a little over an hour before the flower release at sunset,” I said when we returned from a trip to my car to drop off purchases. “Want to go on a few more rides?”
Her eyes lit up. “Ferris wheel?”
My gut plummeted. Of course. Out of every ride—
She caught my expression, her smile faltering. “We can do something else.”
I forced a grin. “Nope. Ferris wheel it is. Kiss at the top, right? It’s a good luck tradition.”
She tugged at my arm. Her steps quickened as we got closer. “Or maybe we should kiss every time it stops and hope it’ll give us even more luck.”
“Absolutely.” I needed all the luck I could get if I was going to ask her to officially be my not-fake girlfriend and for me to survive this ride.
The closer we got to the wheel, the drier my throat became. The iron scent of the Ferris wheel’s machinery hit my nose, mingling with the popcorn and sugar wafting through the air, and irritating my stomach.
The line moved too fast. Before I knew it, we were locked into an open car, and the lap bar was pressed down across our legs.
The ride jerked forward. Our seat rocked. My hand clamped on Ellie’s arm.
She gave a startled squeak. “Drew—”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out, teeth clenched so tight I thought my jaw might snap.
We rose higher and my stomach dropped. My chest constricted.
Forget about kissing. I was just trying to hold down my doughboys.
Every stop made the car sway, the world tilting below us in dizzying detail—the string lights like scattered stars, the crowd a blur of movement, the smell of fried oil wafting up nauseating me.
The higher we got, my muscles tensed further.
“Drew.” Her voice softened, her hand peeling mine from her arm to lace our fingers together. “You’re afraid of heights.”
A jerky nod was all I could manage.
It didn’t always hit me this hard. Over the years, I’d mastered forcing myself to use open backed stairs, and not getting too close to the edge of buildings or views high up so I didn’t trigger my fear.
“Oh, dear. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because I wanted her to be happy. Because putting her first was instinct, even if it broke me. Because admitting fear felt like weakness.
Her words cut through the panic, pulling me from the abyss.
“Drew …” She whispered close to my ear as I clutched the side of the car and her shoulder. “You have no idea how much I love your sketches,” she continued. “The way you design—it’s stunning. I hope one day you make your own collection. I’d buy every piece.”
My chest squeezed. I wanted to tell her she could have anything, everything, for free. I wanted to tell her I’d been thinking of showing my dad what I’d been working on and discussing Ellie’s idea. But the words stuck in my throat as the wheel stopped again and my heart lurched.
Then she shifted, her lips brushing my ear. “And I love what else you can do with your fingers.”
My breath caught.
“You know exactly how to touch me. How deep, how slow. How to make me fall apart.” Her voice shook, her cheeks scarlett, but she didn’t stop.
God. She was doing this for me. She was distracting me the only way she knew how—even if it was difficult for her.
“Ellie …” My voice cracked, half strangled, half aroused.
“Thinking about it makes me ache,” she whispered. “Makes me want you.”
The panic receded, replaced by raw, consuming need.
“Kiss me, Drew,” she demanded, nuzzling my neck with her nose and touching her lips to my skin.
I didn’t stop to think. I let go of the car, cupped her face, and kissed her hard, pouring everything into it—fear, gratitude, hunger … and my feelings that were growing stronger for her every day.
She moaned, soft and sweet, her mouth opening for me. The world tilted; but this time it was her, not the Ferris wheel.
A throat cleared. “Uh. Did you want to go around again?” the attendant asked.
“Nope,” Ellie tugged me up as soon as the bar lifted. “I got my good luck kiss.”
I gingerly climbed out of the ride car and guided her away from the ride. Once it was out of sight, she stopped short, and punched at my arm.
I stumbled back, more out of surprise, than her strength. “What?”
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she snapped, eyes blazing.
“Do what?”
“Think that you need to hide your fears just to make me happy. It’s … sexy as hell that you did it, but I hate that you put yourself through it for me.”
“I wanted—”
“Not at the expense of yourself,” she cut in, voice trembling. She stepped closer, hands fisting my shirt. “I love that you put me first. But not like that. Not when it hurts you.”
Her raw concern sank deeper than my fear ever had.
I nodded and tugged her into my arms. My chin resting on her head. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
She settled into my embrace. “You should be sorry,” she mumbled.
I smiled, holding her tighter. In this moment, I realized the truth I wasn’t ready to say out loud: I was falling in love with Ellie.
And I had no idea how to be the man she deserved and the one who chased my career.
So I gave her what I could, the only safe piece of truth. “This feels less fake every day.”
Her arms squeezed me harder. “I know.”
We stayed like that for a while until I heard Grace yelling our names, telling us we’d miss the last River Walk if we didn’t hurry up. Reluctantly, we let our arms fall away from each other and held hands instead.
I knew there was no mistaking what it was I felt. And that small admission had changed something between us.