Chapter Thirty-Seven
Bella
Boston
Waking up in Drew’s bed, even after the week we’d had, still took some getting used to. The room was dim, with early morning light filtering through heavy curtains and painting everything in soft gray. The sheets smelled like clean laundry, sleep, and him. And us.
I lay still for a moment, listening to the slow rhythm of Drew’s breathing.
His arm was draped over my waist like it belonged there, like I belonged there.
My body was warm, loose, and satisfied in a way I rarely allowed myself to feel.
It wasn’t because I didn’t enjoy pleasure, but because pleasure had a way of making people careless, and carelessness had consequences.
Except, nothing about Drew felt careless.
Nothing about the way he touched me last night felt like taking; it felt like claiming.
It didn’t scare me; instead, it made my whole nervous system unclench.
It was, honestly, terrifying because I didn’t know what to do with that.
I stared at the ceiling and tried to breathe normally while my brain did what it always did: turned panic into a strategy meeting.
Okay. You can do this. You are an adult.
You are a Holliston. You run a company. You can absolutely say one sentence out loud.
Except it wasn’t just one sentence. It was a sentence that could change everything.
So I practiced silently while Drew slept.
Option one: Drew, I’d like to talk about the terms of our agreement.
No, too formal and too cold. Option two: I don’t think I can do fake anymore.
Too vague; it sounded like I’m quitting a job.
Option three: I think I’m starting to have feelings for you.
Lame. Option four: My friends think we’re already dating and joke that we’re going to be fake married soon. Not funny.
Drew’s chest rose beneath my cheek. I shifted slightly, trying to move without waking him, but his hand tightened immediately at my waist. It was possessive and automatic, as if his body couldn’t let me go, not even in sleep.
My breath hitched. I hated how much my body reacted to the smallest contact from him, so I forced myself to stay calm.
Option five: I want this to be real. Simple. Direct. Terrifying.
I closed my eyes. Say it. Just say it. I waited and waited because apparently, in my world, I could negotiate million-dollar deals without blinking, but saying I want you felt like walking into traffic.
Drew shifted behind me. His nose brushed the back of my neck and his lips pressed lightly to my shoulder like he was still half asleep. “Mm,” he murmured. I froze. His voice was low, warm, and wrecking. “You’re tense,” he whispered into my skin.
I didn’t move or breathe. Drew’s arm tightened again, pulling me closer. “Bella,” he murmured. “What are you doing?”
I swallowed. “Nothing,” I lied.
He made a sound—half amused and half skeptical. “You’re panicking,” he said.
I closed my eyes. “I’m not,” I lied again.
Drew’s breath warmed my neck. “You’re thinking so hard I can feel it.”
I wanted to die. Slowly, Drew lifted his head and blinked at me, sleep still in his eyes and hair slightly messy. He looked unfairly good in the morning. He wasn’t polished or suited; he was just real. That was the problem.
“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.
“Nothing is wrong,” I said quickly.
Drew’s gaze held mine, steady and patient, as if he’d already decided he could wait out any lie I tried to use as armor. “Bella,” he said, his voice gentle now, “you’re not good at hiding when something matters.”
I blinked because that was true but only with people who really knew me.
Drew’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t tense or flinch; he just nodded once. “Okay.” That calmness nearly undid me. If he’d been nervous or uncertain, I could’ve matched it. But Drew was steady, like he’d already decided he could navigate anything I said.
I swallowed, then I forced myself to do what Sloane had told me to do. Be an adult. Say it out loud. “Okay,” I began, my voice sounding too tight. “When we started this . . .”
Drew stayed quiet, his hand sliding slowly up and down my waist in a soothing motion.
“We agreed it was for Nora and Brady.” His eyes softened, but he didn’t interrupt. “And I believed that,” I continued quickly. “I thought we were making a plan. An arrangement. Something controlled.”
Drew’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile but was trying very hard not to.
I frowned. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing,” he said innocently.
“You’re thinking about laughing.”
That made his smile break slightly. He kissed my forehead, a slow, gentle press that should not have felt like it meant anything—but it did.
I took a breath. “I need to renegotiate our conditions.”
That finally earned a full smile. Drew’s brows lifted. “Our conditions.”
“Yes,” I said firmly, because now that I’d said it, I was committed. “And our rules.”
His eyes warmed. “Okay.”
I blinked. “Okay?”
Drew nodded once, completely serious. “I’d also like to renegotiate the terms of our agreement.”
My lips parted. “You would?” I asked, stupidly.
Drew’s gaze held mine, steady. “Bella.”
I swallowed again, then I pushed forward before I lost my nerve. “I know this started as . . . strategy.” I winced at myself. “But along the way . . .” Drew’s hand stilled at my waist. I forced the words out. “I started to have real feelings for you.”
The silence that followed was so profound I felt it in my bones. Drew didn’t move or speak. His expression didn’t shift into surprise the way I’d expected. Instead, something in his eyes softened.
I swallowed. “So I need to know. Do you . . . Are you . . .” I started.
“In love with you? Absolutely. One hundred percent. All in. Smitten.” Drew’s mouth curved slowly. “And you?”
“Yes,” I said breathlessly. “To all of that.”
“Finally.”
I blinked. “Finally?”
He nodded, utterly calm. “I knew you loved me all along. Maybe since we were kids. I mean, I’m irresistible.”
My heart stuttered. “You’re not—”
“I’m not?” he challenged.
“No,” I snapped. “I mean—yes. A little.”
Drew’s smile deepened. “You fell for me fast.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I remember wanting to punch you.”
He nodded like that was charming. “Close enough.”
I stared at him, suddenly flustered. “Drew, this is serious.”
“I know,” he said, and then he leaned closer, his voice low. “I may have loved you my whole life as well. You’re irresistible too.”
My breath caught. Then Drew started to laugh. I froze. “This is not a joke.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing softly into my hair. “I’m not laughing at you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No,” he insisted. “I’m laughing because you’re lying here in my arms talking about renegotiating terms like you’re drafting a contract—”
“That is how I communicate under stress,” I muttered.
Drew laughed again, deeper this time, and I couldn’t stop the smile that broke across my face. It was ridiculous. This was ridiculous, and somehow . . . perfect.
I rolled toward him, pushing at his shoulder. “Stop laughing.”
He caught my hands easily, pulling me closer. “I can’t. I’m nervous too.”
“You’re impossible,” I said.
He kissed my cheek. “And yet you love me.”
“I do,” I murmured.
He kissed the corner of my mouth. I stopped arguing.
Drew’s lips moved over mine, slow and warm and sure. The kiss felt different than all the others because it wasn’t hungry; it was claiming. It was like a man who’d already decided I was his.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing harder. Drew rested his forehead against mine. “So,” he murmured. “We’re renegotiating.”
I blinked, trying to find my brain again. “Yes.”
He smiled. “Good.”
I swallowed. “Because we love each other.”
Drew’s eyes held mine. “Why do you look terrified when you say that?”
My chest tightened. I tried to stay calm. “Not terrified, just need to know it’s real.”
He kissed my nose. “It’s real.”
My throat bobbed. “Okay.”
We lay there in the quiet as the morning light shifted and the world outside remained asleep. Then Drew’s eyes sparked with mischief. “You know what would really help Nora and Brady be able to date?” he asked.
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
His grin turned wicked. “If we got married.”
I stared at him. My heart stopped. For a split second, my brain short-circuited. Then I said, sharply, “For real though, right?”
Drew laughed so hard he rolled onto his back. “Is fake an option? And if so, what are the rules? Please don’t reinstitute the no-sex rule, that was killing me.”
I shoved him. “Drew, if you just proposed to me . . .”
“I did,” he said, still laughing. “I’m sorry—I can’t stop.”
“This is no time to joke.”
His laughter tapered into a grin. Then, very slowly, Drew reached over the side of the bed. “Who said I was joking?”
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
He pulled something from the pocket of his suit jacket, which had been tossed over the chair the night before. My heart stopped. Drew brought his hand back into view and held it out. A small velvet box rested in his palm.
I stared at it. My throat closed and my body went completely still. Drew’s gaze held mine, suddenly serious again.
“No,” I whispered.
His mouth curved slightly. “Yes,” he murmured.
I couldn’t breathe. “Do you have a ring with you all the time?” I managed.
Drew gave me a strange look. “Not normally, but since we decided to fake date, yes,” he said quietly.
I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Why?”
A brief pause. “Because there was nothing fake about my decision.”
My chest tightened so painfully I thought I might break. I shook my head, trying to find logic. “But you—”
Drew’s eyes softened.
“You’re serious,” I whispered, my voice shaking, “about all of it.”
Drew didn’t even blink. “Yes,” he said simply.
“About maybe loving me your whole life?”
He nuzzled my cheek. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”
My breath caught again. The truth was sitting right there in his eyes: he’d been all-in since the mirror maze, since the first time he saw past my armor, and I’d been too scared to see it. Drew reached for my hand, slowly, giving me time and letting me decide. I let him take it.
“I don’t know the exact date or time when I gave you my heart, but it’s yours.
” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. He leaned over, opened a drawer, pulled out a framed photo of the two of us from the ski shop in those ridiculous snowsuits and placed it on the table beside his bed.
“See, you have to marry me. Not just to end the feud, but we look so damn good together.”
Tears burned at the back of my eyes, completely unwanted. I blinked hard. “You’re . . . insane.”
Drew smiled. “Maybe.”
My laugh came out shaky and breathless. “This is not how people do this.”
“It is how I do it,” he said softly.
I stared at the box again, my heart hammering. Then I looked up at him. “Drew,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
I swallowed, forcing the word out. “Yes.”
Drew’s smile hit like sunrise. He opened the box.
The ring was simple and stunning—a clear stone that caught the morning light and fractured it into fire.
My heart stopped and my lungs forgot how to work.
Drew slid it onto my finger. The cool metal warmed instantly against my skin.
It fit perfectly. Of course it did, because Drew Burke had love me his whole life.
He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles, then looked at me like I was the only thing in the world worth believing in. “Now that you’ve said yes, I’d like to suggest a rule,” he said between kisses.
I blinked, laughing through the shower of his affection. “You would?”
“Yes. We don’t repeat the mistakes our parents made.
We put each other first and we make this forever.
” Drew’s next kiss was slow, deep, and certain.
His hands framed my face, lightly brushing my cheeks as if he were afraid I’d vanish.
I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging in, as I tried to shake off the feeling that this was a dream.
When we pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine. “Technically,” I said breathlessly, “that’s two rules.”
He smiled and snapped his fingers. “Rule three: I get to call you my good girl.”
My chest tightened. “I actually love that,” I whispered back.