Chapter 15
Sawyer
By the time I step out of the shower, towel slung low on my hips, the lights in the room are dim and quiet, and Charli’s already fast asleep.
She’s curled on her side, her hair a halo against the pillow, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, the other sprawled toward where I should have already been. I stand there for a long beat, just watching her, towel forgotten, my chest tightening with something I don’t want to name.
I could go back to my own room. Slip out quietly. Pretend I never asked to stay.
But I don’t want to.
Instead, I grab my boxers and slip into them, then ease down onto the mattress beside her. She shifts in her sleep, unconsciously gravitating toward the heat of me, her forehead brushing against my bicep as she exhales a soft sigh.
I pull the covers over both of us, slide an arm beneath her, and gently wrap the other around her waist. Her body melts into mine like she belongs there. Like she’s always belonged there.
It’s not the heat or the lust or even the high of this island escape—it’s the calm.
She grounds me.
I press a kiss to her temple and close my eyes. And for the first time in what feels like years, I fall asleep with something that feels a lot like peace.
The next morning, we’re back on the jet.
Charli’s settled across from me, curled up in one of the wide leather seats, barefoot with her knees tucked under her, hair piled in a messy bun, and a mimosa clutched between both hands like it’s a precious artifact.
She’s grinning at something out the window—probably the ocean or clouds or the way the sun looks when it spills over the wings.
“You know,” I say, watching her with more amusement than I’ll ever admit, “you’re allowed to be a little less excited about flying in a private jet. It’s not like it’s your first time anymore.”
She shrugs, grinning. “It’s not about the jet. It’s about the view. And the drinks. And the zero legroom issues. And the fact that someone brought me a croissant without me having to ask.”
I laugh. “So, the full experience.”
“Exactly,” she says, raising her glass in a mock toast. “To bougie travel and good company.”
I clink my coffee mug against her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
She takes a sip, then peers at me over the rim. “You always this charming in the morning?”
“Only when I wake up next to someone who is as beautiful as you.”
Her cheeks flush faintly, and she looks out the window again, but the smile stays.
And just like that, I know—we’re not done. Not even close.
When we pull into the driveway of my house, Ghost is already pacing in front of the front door like she knows exactly what time we’d be back. The second we step inside, she launches herself at Charli with a full-body wiggle, ears back, her tail wagging furiously.
“Hey, buddy!” Charli laughs, crouching down to greet her. Ghost doesn’t just nuzzle her—she presses her entire head against her chest and lets out this low, happy groan like she’s been missing her for years instead of days.
“I think someone missed you,” I say, grinning.
“She’s gonna knock me over,” she says, laughing as Ghost leans even harder against her, now offering her paw like the most polite, lovesick fool.
“You’ve officially been claimed,” I say.
Charli smiles up at me, her hand on Ghost’s enormous head. “Seems to be a theme lately.”
We finally get our bags inside, and the second the door clicks shut, Ghost does a full-body spin, grabs one of her squeaky toys, and trots over to Charli like she’s presenting her with a royal offering.
When Charli crouches to take it, Ghost presses her giant head into Charli’s chest and lets out the most pitiful, lovesick groan, like she’s been emotionally devastated by Charli’s two-day absence.
Then, she flops dramatically onto her back, paws in the air, clearly demanding belly rubs.
Charli laughs, rubbing her belly. “She’s ridiculous.”
“She’s in love with you,” I say, grinning. “I should be jealous.”
Ghost lets out a contented huff, paws still twitching like she’s dreaming of Charli never leaving again.
“I’ve got some work I need to catch up on this afternoon,” I say, a little reluctant, as we pause in the hallway. I want to spend the entire day tangled up with her, not holed away answering emails. “But I’d really like to have dinner with you tonight—if you’re up for it.”
Charli grins, the kind that makes my chest tighten. “Well, how else are you going to make your billions, Mr. Gallo? You've got to work.”
I chuckle, reaching for her hand. “Fair point. But I’d still rather spend the time with you.”
She nods, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like that. I’ve got a bunch of wedding menu planning to do anyway—Mia’s list is, um, extensive.”
I grin. “Good. Then come with me for a second.”
She follows me down the hall, our fingers laced, her hand warm in mine. Her brow wrinkles in confusion as we stop in front of a closed door. I give her hand a soft squeeze and open it, revealing a room just off the den.
Inside is a sleek, cozy office space—white desk, comfortable ergonomic chair, fresh flowers on the windowsill. A brand-new laptop sits open on the desk beside a box of business cards and a shiny new cell phone.
Charli steps inside, blinking in disbelief. “What... when did you do all this?”
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. I just shrug and smile, watching her light up. Her joy is like a shot of caffeine to my chest.
She turns in a slow circle, taking it all in. “Sawyer. This is... I don’t even know what to say You’re unreal, you know that?”
I lean in, brushing a kiss on her temple. “Remind me to have that printed on a mug.”
She laughs and shakes her head, but there’s something behind her smile. Something that tells me this–this feeling, this connection–is exactly where we’re both supposed to be.
And I don’t want it to go away.
I sit at my desk, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I work through emails and budget reports that piled up during our island getaway.
The warm glow of the late afternoon sun filters through the windows of my home office, but I barely notice.
My focus is all numbers and deadlines until my phone buzzes.
Ian: Remember that day when you warned me about Mia?
I frown, confused. Before I can respond, another message comes through from him with a link to an article, so I click on it.
A tabloid page loads–one of those glossy celebrity gossip sites with way too many pop-ups and way too little actual journalistic integrity. But the headline hits like a freight train.
Do We Smell a Double Wedding? Billionaire Brothers Dine with Fiancés in Nassau.
The photo is crystal clear; me and Charli sitting across from Ian and Mia, wine glasses raised, candlelight flickering. Charli’s laughing. I’m staring at her like she hung the damn moon.
I mutter a curse under my breath, leaning back in my chair, running a hand down my face. It makes my blood boil.
Me: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Ian: Told you. Paparazzi are relentless. Especially when the name Gallo is involved. We should have kicked that guy’s ass last night.
Me: She didn’t sign up for this.
Ian: Neither did Mia. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t handle it like a badass. You need to do what I did – circle the wagons. Keep the vultures out. Make her feel safe.
I exhale slowly, staring at the screen. Ian’s right, damn him. The article might be garbage, but it’s a warning. Things are moving fast–publicly. I have to protect and warn Charli before she decides all of this is too much.
Ian: Just don’t do what I did and try to push her away to protect her. Let her choose.
I nod to myself.
Me: Thanks
Ian: Anytime. But also… if you are planning a double wedding, you better get on that fast. Mine’s coming up soon.
Then he sends a bunch of ridiculous emojis.
Ian: You mad?
Me: Furious
Ian: Good. That means you care. Also, welcome to the club. When this crap happened to us, I nearly threw a reporter in the ocean. You’ll want to do that, too. Just don’t. Cameras are everywhere.
I shake my head with a low laugh; the tension easing just enough to let a grin through. Leave it to Ian to drop wisdom and sarcasm in the same breath. But the message is obvious–it’s time to circle the wagons.
Just as I’m about to go talk to Charli - warn her, explain… something - before she sees the article, my phone rings and it’s Chance Carter, one of the arson investigators working the Silver Willow fire.
I pick up, bracing myself, a thread of hope in my chest that he has good news on the arsonist. “Chance?”
“Gallo. Hey, sorry to bother you on a Sunday. but I have a quick question.”
“Sure, man. What’s up?” I shift in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Did you ever call the State Fire Marshal like you suggested?”
I frown. “Not yet. Why? What happened?”
Chance exhales a breath that sounds like it’s been dragging across hot coals. “The elementary school gym went up in flames over the weekend. And I don’t care what Captain Morgan says anymore—we need help before someone ends up dead.”
I rub a hand over my jaw, my heart sinking. “Fuck. Are you serious?” My grip tightens around the phone as I stare at the ceiling, exhaling through my nose. First the damn tabloid, now this. I swear the universe is testing me right now.
“Dead serious. You said you had contacts. We need them. We’re out of time and out of resources, Sawyer.”
I glance at my laptop, then toward the hallway where Charli is probably unpacking or sketching menus.
“I’ll call first thing in the morning,” I say. “You have my word.”
“I appreciate it, man.” A pause. “You’ve got power, Gallo. We need you to use it. The town’s getting nervous. I’m getting nervous. Now that someone’s targeting schools?” His voice drops, edged with emotion. “That’s a whole different level of sick.”
“I hear you. I’ll start pulling strings.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate it if you kept me posted.”
I end the call and let the phone drop to my desk with a dull thud.
For a second, I just sit there–caught in the whiplash between that damn article and all the chaos it’s going to cause and the escalating threat in town. Charli deserves to be protected from both. From all of it.
I glance toward the hall where I know she’s working out of her new office – probably humming to herself, probably still glowing from the island sun and not yet tainted by the mess that’s about to drop into her lap.
She trusts me with her heart. With her hope.
Now I have to make damn sure no one takes that from me.
I rise from my chair, shoulders squared and mind racing.
First step–talk to Charli.