Chapter 24
ELIZABETH
Ifell asleep approximately three minutes after walking in my door last night. I didn’t even bother taking off my makeup. But damn, I had slept well. The whole week had been filled with sleepless nights and long days.
But I survived my first fashion show.
My feet ached from walking in heels. And my thighs were a little sore from what came after. But it was a good ache. The kind that came with accomplishment from doing things you never thought you could do.
I stretched in bed and smiled at the ceiling like an idiot.
I had walked in a legit fashion show. Me. Elizabeth Laramie, the girl who’d been waiting tables two weeks ago.
I’d walked that runway, and people had cheered. Adrian had called me the love of his life.
The memory made my stomach flip. I touched my lips where he’d kissed me on that stage. Had he meant it? Or was it just part of the show, an improvisation to explain my unexpected appearance?
Stop overthinking, I told myself. Just enjoy this while it lasts.
I forced myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water work out the knots in my muscles. The day stretched ahead of me, gloriously empty until Adrian picked me up at five for our flight to London.
A whole day to just exist. No interviews, no photoshoots, no performance required.
I didn’t have to wait tables and deal with asshole customers.
If I was lucky, I would never have to do that again.
I just had to make sure I didn’t completely bomb the Blackwell job once I got into it.
I was going to bust my ass to make sure I impressed Adrian and whoever I worked for.
I went into my kitchen and opened my cupboard. I grinned remembering the grocery order I had gotten delivered the other day. Yesterday, I had to get out of the house in a hurry and didn’t get the chance to use my new treat.
I bought myself an actual coffeemaker and a bag of good coffee.
Not super high end but not instant. Within minutes, the aroma of strong coffee filled the tiny space.
I grabbed the pumpkin-spice creamer and dumped in a healthy dollop.
I had splurged but I told myself I had a big paycheck coming.
I could afford to spoil myself just a little.
I settled at my tiny kitchen table with my sketchbook and coffee. I hadn’t finished any new pieces in weeks, too overwhelmed by everything happening to do more than sketch out ideas and play around.
But this morning, with a tiny ray of sunlight streaming through my window and the memory of last night still warming me from the inside, I found myself drawing.
Not the safe, conservative designs I’d shown Adrian before. Not the pieces I thought my mother would approve of or that would appeal to the broadest market.
These were different. Bold. Daring. The kind of designs that had been living in my head but I’d been too scared to put on paper.
A dress with an asymmetrical neckline that would make people look twice. Another with strategic cutouts that managed to be sexy without being vulgar. A third that played with volume in unexpected ways, creating drama through silhouette.
I lost myself in it, in the pure joy of creating without judgment, without pressure. Page after page filled with sketches, with notes about fabric and construction, with the raw energy of inspiration finally unleashed.
I was so absorbed I didn’t hear the knock at first. The second knock was louder, more insistent. I jumped, nearly spilling coffee across my drawings.
I looked through the peephole and felt my stomach roll with excitement.
Adrian.
I opened the door, suddenly very aware that I was wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with a hole in the sleeve. “You’re early.”
“I brought breakfast.” He held up the bag. “Figured you might not have eaten yet.”
“It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Brunch, then.” His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Can I come in?”
I stepped aside and inhaled the scent of him and those pastries he was carrying. He looked scrumptious. I was hungry, but I would settle for feasting on him. He was wearing dark jeans once again. But instead of a dress shirt or a T-shirt, he had on a henley that somehow was even sexier.
My god, it was unfair for one human to get this many good looks.
He set the pastry bag on my table, then froze, seeing the sketchbook. “What are these?”
“Nothing.” I moved quickly to cover the drawings, but he caught my wrist.
“Elizabeth, are these your new designs?”
“I was just playing around. They’re not finished or anything.”
“They’re incredible.” He carefully moved my hand aside so he could see better. “Why didn’t you show me these?”
“Because they’re not ready. They’re just ideas, rough concepts—”
“They’re awesome.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.” He was still studying the drawings. I could practically see his brain working.
“I can show you more on the plane,” I said, covering the sketches again. “But these really are just me messing around.”
“Fine. But Elizabeth? Stop hiding your talent. Stop playing it safe.” He caught my chin, tilting my face up to his. “I’ve seen what you can do when you’re brave. Last night proved it.”
The kiss he gave me was soft, unhurried, completely different from the desperate urgency of last night. When he pulled back, he was smiling.
“Come on. We should head to the airport. We’re burning daylight.”
“Oh! Right now! I haven’t even finished packing.”
“Then you should hurry. The pilot said there is a storm rolling in. He wants to try and beat it.”
I nodded. “Of course. Okay.”
The next fifteen minutes were a whirlwind with me finishing what I had started two days ago.
Adrian’s car was waiting for us as he lugged my suitcase downstairs. He didn’t say it, but I knew he was not thrilled with the whole no elevator situation. Maybe one day I would get to live in a building with an elevator.
When the car pulled directly on the tarmac and parked alongside a small plane, I almost freaked out. Sure, I’d seen it done in the movies, but in real life?
Ho-ly shit.
I’d never been on a private plane before.
The exterior was sleek and white with “Blackwell” written in elegant script along the side. But inside?
Inside was a different world.
Cream leather seats that looked more like armchairs.
Polished wood accents. Soft lighting that created an atmosphere more reminiscent of a luxury hotel than an aircraft.
There was a couch along one side, a table that could seat six, and through a doorway I could see what looked like an actual bedroom.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
“Language, dear,” a voice said from one of the seats.
I turned to find an elegant woman with silver hair watching me with amusement. She had Adrian’s bone structure, but her eyes were a striking blue that reminded me of—
“Dash,” I said without thinking. “You have Dash’s eyes.”
Her smile widened. “And you must be Elizabeth. I’m Mimi Blackwell, Adrian’s mother.”
Oh God. His mother. I was meeting his mother while saying “holy shit” about their private plane.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Blackwell.” I moved forward, trying to summon some dignity.
“Mimi, please.” She extended her hand for a handshake. “Welcome aboard.”
Adrian guided me to a seat across the aisle from his mother.
As the plane prepared for takeoff, I studied Mimi when I thought she wasn’t looking.
She was impeccably dressed in what I recognized as Blackwell Couture—an elegant pantsuit that probably cost more than six months of my rent.
Her makeup was subtle but perfect, her jewelry understated but clearly expensive.
And she was treating me like an employee. She shook my hand.
She wasn’t rude or mean, but there was a professional distance in her manner. A formality that made it clear she knew exactly what I was and wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. I knew she knew because a mother would greet her future daughter-in-law with a hug, right?
I wasn’t really her son’s fiancée. The reminder stung more than it should have.
The plane took off, and I gripped the armrest until Adrian’s hand covered mine. “Nervous flyer?”
“First time on a private jet. Didn’t want to embarrass myself by screaming.”
“You could never embarrass me.” He said it simply, like it was obvious fact.
Once we were at cruising altitude, Adrian turned to me with his tablet. “Have you seen the response to last night?”
“I’ve been avoiding social media. Figured I’d just stress myself out reading comments.”
“Don’t avoid these.” He pulled up article after article, all praising the show.
And me.
“Elizabeth Laramie’s surprise appearance was the highlight of the evening,” Adrian read. “The genuine joy on both their faces reminded us why we fell in love with love in the first place.”
“They think we planned it,” I realized.
“They do. They think having my fiancée walk in the show was a strategic masterstroke. A way to prove that Blackwell isn’t just a business—it’s family.” He set the tablet aside. “You made a good event great, Elizabeth. Thank you.”
He leaned over and kissed me.
Whoa. I wasn’t expecting it. I liked it obviously. But that felt real. There was no one to put on a show for. He kissed me because he wanted to.
But with his mother six feet away, pretending to read a magazine but definitely listening, I couldn’t help but feel like we were still performing. Did he kiss me for her benefit? Maybe she didn’t know the whole thing was fake and he was trying to convince her.
“I’m hungry,” Mimi announced, standing. “Let’s have dinner. It’s technically Sunday now, and this is the only family dinner I’m going to get this week.”
She gestured to a flight attendant, who began setting up the table with what looked like a full meal. Mimi directed Adrian and me to sit, then sat across from us.
“So, Elizabeth,” Mimi said as food was served using actual china, actual silverware, actual gourmet food at thirty thousand feet. “Adrian tells me you’re a designer.”
“Yes. Well, I hope to be. I went to the Fashion Institute.”
“And you’ve been having trouble finding work in the industry?”
There was no judgment in her tone, just curiosity, but I still felt defensive. “It’s competitive. Lots of qualified people, not as many positions.”
“Mm.” Mimi delicately cut her chicken. “And now my son is giving you a job. How convenient.”
“Mom,” Adrian said, warning in his voice.
“I’m not criticizing. I’m observing.” Mimi looked at me directly. “You’re doing us a favor with this arrangement. It’s only fair we do something for you in return.”
The bluntness of it made me flinch. But she wasn’t wrong. That was the deal.
“I appreciate the opportunity,” I said carefully.
“Do you have family, Elizabeth? Besides your brother?”
“Parents in New Jersey. We’re not as close as you and your sons.”
Something in Mimi’s expression softened slightly. “That’s a shame. Family is everything.”
We ate in silence for a moment, and I felt the weight of being evaluated, measured.
“You know, when Adrian first told me about this engagement, I thought it was the worst idea the PR team had ever had. And they’ve had some truly terrible ideas, like Blackwell fanny packs and the time they wanted us to make fedoras cool. ”
“Mom, there are no bad ideas in brainstorming—”
“But watching you two together last night, seeing the way he looks at you?” She set down her fork. “Either you’re both exceptional actors, or something’s changed.”
Adrian and I exchanged glances.
“It’s still fake,” Adrian said, but he didn’t sound entirely convincing. “We’re just comfortable with each other now.”
“Comfortable.” Mimi smiled, and it reached her eyes for the first time. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Mom, don’t.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m pleased.”
He shook his head at her. “It sure doesn’t sound like it.”
She looked at me with new warmth, ignoring his statement. “My son has been married to his work for a year. It’s nice to see him remember he’s human.”
The conversation shifted after that, Mimi asking me genuine questions about myself. The professional distance melted slightly, replaced by something that felt almost like approval.
After dinner, Mimi excused herself to sleep in one of the back rows. “We have a long day tomorrow. I suggest you both rest as well.”
But Adrian pulled out his laptop and got right to work.
“You should sleep,” I said.
“I will. Just want to double-check a few things for London.”
I meant to stay awake and keep him company. But the combination of the flight, the full stomach, and sheer exhaustion pulled me under.
I woke briefly at some point, disoriented, and realized my head was in Adrian’s lap. His laptop was still open on the small table in front of him, but one of his hands rested gently in my hair, his fingers occasionally moving in a soothing rhythm.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“Shh. It’s fine. Go back to sleep.”
I should have sat up, but his hand in my hair felt too good. The gentle pressure of his touch was too comforting.
So I closed my eyes again, pretending to fall back asleep.
I stayed there, savoring every second, knowing that moments like this were numbered.