Chapter Thirty-Seven
DREW
My mother and Glamma found me sulking alone in the parlor. I couldn’t keep what happened from them.
“Andrew Elliott Kingsley, I did not raise a fool.” Mom’s voice cut through the fog in my head like a knife. Beside her, Glamma crossed her glittering arms like a jeweled executioner preparing for sentencing.
“No, you did not,” Glamma added, cool as the lake water in November. “So he better stop acting like one.”
I turned to face them. Two generations of fierce Kingsley women stared me down, thoroughly unimpressed with the man standing before them. My mouth moved before my brain caught up. “How do I make her understand? I love her. I—”
Mom’s look was pure disappointment, the kind that hit harder than anger ever could. “Think, Drew. Ellie has spent her entire life being second. Tonight you told her she’d be second again. To a calendar. To a project. To everything but you.”
Something hot and sharp stabbed beneath my ribs, stealing my breath.
Oh, shit. What was I thinking?
The fog cleared an instant later, brutal clarity flooding in. I’d just told the woman I loved that she wasn’t first in my life.
“What have I done?”
Twelve years fell on me all at once: the sharp glint of a marquise diamond and ruby on my sketchpad, the rush of pride when I pitched the Ruby Night logo.
I insisted on designing it myself, certain I could make my mark as an artist. The pins sold as a gag, the necklaces tanked, and the company lost money. I carried the shame like a brand.
From that night forward, I swore I’d never make a mistake like that again. So I worked. And worked. Until penance and discipline blurred together and became the same thing.
Not again.
I wouldn’t make a decision that would haunt me the rest of my life once again.
“She asked for time to think.” I looked at Mom and Glamma.
“Don’t give it to her,” Glamma pointed at the door. “Don’t give her a second to decide to not stay.”
She was right. So damn right.
So I ran.
Back out the front door and towards Main Street.
“Ellie!” I yelled once, twice, lungs burning. Ruby River’s main street opened ahead, quiet.
Where would she have gone? If Ellie needed space, she’d go somewhere close by where the world would drown out her sorrows. Because I knew it had killed her to walk away.
The bridge appeared, stones gleaming under the moonlight. A night similar to the one we’d finally met in person. Her hair caught the light. She leaned on the stone wall, still as a statue.
I slowed.
Don’t startle her.
Don’t make this about me. Make it about us.
“Ellie,” I said, quietly.
She turned. Shoulders squared. Eyes careful. A queen counting the cost of another war.
The realization hit hard: I had unintentionally become one more person she had to survive.
My knees gave out. I didn’t plan it. One second I was standing, the next I was on the hard stone looking up at the one person I’ve ever wanted. “I did what your family always has,” I said, my voice wrecked at the thought. “I tried to make you smaller to fit my life.”
She flinched. I kept my hands open, beseeching her. “If you give me another chance, I will never make you feel like you come second again.”
“Why should I believe you?” Her arms were crossed, like armor protecting her heart, but her voice wasn’t cruel. Just tired.
Because love isn’t proof, not from me. She didn’t doubt my feelings.
“Words won’t fix this, but I hope it’s at least a start,” I said.
“Loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
I could do it in the dark, hands tied, with a hurricane whipping around me.
But ease isn’t the same as showing up. I’ve been confusing endurance with devotion since that fateful night I chose the wrong design and decided that the only penance was for me to never stop working. ”
A muscle ticked in her jaw. Yet, she stayed silent.
“I’m done paying a debt that no one’s collecting,” I said. “I’m done building a life that has no room for the person I want at the center of it.”
Her lashes fluttered. She didn’t move closer. And she didn’t step back, either.
“Give me two minutes,” I said, not bothering to stand. “No promises. Proof.”
I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking so hard it took me a second to open the expansion program doc, and typed.
Effective Immediately: Stepping down as Expansion Lead.
Proposed Successor: Logan Kingsley.
My focus: Heritage Collection—design + limited launch ops
Boundaries: 40 hours/wk. No nights. No Sundays.
Non-negotiable: After 6 pm off the clock—needed at home
I hit send to Dad, the design lead, and Logan. Then I made a call and put it on speaker. “Dad.”
“Drew are you alright? Did you find Ellie?”
“I love her,” I said, “And I can’t be the man she needs if I keep living like I’m outrunning my mistake from twelve years ago.
I just sent updated the doc and sent a message transferring the expansion to Logan.
He’s ready. And I’m moving to design. It’s where I should’ve been all along.
” My breath hitched. “I need your blessing. Not permission.”
On the other end, chairs scraped, voices hushed. Then Dad let out a booming laugh. “It’s about damn time, Drew. Yes, to all of it. Your life is your own. You owe the company nothing. You’ve been the only one keeping score all these years.”
My phone buzzed with incoming text messages from Logan and the Design Lead.
LOGAN
On it. I’m ready for this.
SHERI
Welcome home. Monday, 10 am, bring your ideas.
I ended the call and opened my calendar.
The recurring 6:00 am - 10:00 pm blocks that had defined me for years stared back, gray bars stacked like prison rungs.
I deleted them. My thumb hovered over the “Are you sure?” prompt.
I pressed Yes. Then created a new event: Ellie.
Dinner. No phones—every night, 6-8 pm, repeating forever. I shared it with her and hit send.
Only then did I look up. “I can’t offer you grand speeches,” I said, my voice low.
“Just a life I’m reshaping in front of you because you’re it for me.
I want to design. I want to go home with you every night and hear your laughter within the walls of our home.
I want to be the man who leaves work when the workday is over because there’s something better to go home for. ”
Within the brightness of the moonlight, I watched her face change—easing. Like a hand unclenching.
“You quit to prove to me I should stay,” she whispered. “I don’t want a grand gesture you regret tomorrow. Your happiness is my priority, whether it involves me or not.”
I reached for her hands, grateful when she placed her hands on mine.
“I should’ve realized a lot sooner that trying to do both jobs would destroy not just us, but me.
I was already burning the candle at both ends.
It could only have lasted for so long. You didn’t make me choose you over my job.
I’m choosing you because it’s what my heart wants. ”
She gave me a watery smile.
“I am in love with you, Ellie Remington. Not falling, not maybe. Not when the quarter is over. Now. You are important enough to take center stage in my life.”
Silence stretched between us.
She squeezed my hands and dropped to her knees. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said, and let the fears I still held fall between us.
“I’m scared, though, that I don’t know how to slow down for good.
I’m scared I’ll mess up and reach for my phone at seven at night out of habit.
I’m scared that if I’m not the first in the office and the last to leave, the kid who chose the wrong design will fail again. ”
Her hands moved to cup my cheeks. “Then we learn new habits,” she said. “When you reach for your phone, I’ll kiss you. And when I pick up my old pattern—apologizing for existing or being a doormat—you’ll remind me of who I am.”
My throat closed. I nodded. I’d come so close to losing her for good.
“So that calendar alert … every night?”
“Every night, forever,” I said, and meant it.
She took a deep breath and with that sound, I knew we could start over again.
“Alright. I’ll hold you to that, Drew Kingsley.
I’m so in love with you that walking away felt like I ripped myself in half and left the best parts behind.
I never want to feel that way again. I also choose you. I choose to put us first.”
I slid my arms around her waist, holding her tight to me, breathing in the scent of the river, and the fall night air. I kissed her, never wanting to let go.
When we broke apart, her eyes met mine. “One condition.”
“Name it.”
“Our life isn’t going to just revolve around making me happy. You need to be happy, too.”
“Deal,” I said, and stood before pulling her to her feet.
We started back across the bridge, taking our time. The night felt different—it was the same stars, the same river, the same night sky I’d lived under since I was born, but it was brighter, sharper, it felt more like home than it ever had.
My phone buzzed.
“Answer it,” Ellie said, reading the open screen in front of her.
DAD
Proud of you. Your mother, sister, and brothers are, too. Also, Glamma says if you ever try to put work before love again, she’ll stage an intervention with the whole town.
I chuckled.
Ellie snort-laughed. “I believe her.”
“So do I.”
DREW
Duly noted. It won’t ever happen again. I promise.
I slid the phone into my pocket and tightened my arm around her. “Let’s go home.”
“I like the sound of that,” Ellie replied, happiness in her words and her tone.
For the first time in twelve years, I felt free.
I was ready to build a new life.
With Ellie.