Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
brOOKS
In the high-stakes world of venture capital, you learn to read the room. You assess the variables, calculate the risks, and position yourself for maximum advantage. It's a skill set that has served me well in boardrooms and negotiations.
But lately, I find myself caring less about strategy and more about the woman sitting across from me at breakfast, stealing my coffee and explaining why I can't seat all the difficult relatives at one table and call it "containment strategy."
It is Saturday night, and we are crossing the bridge away from Manhattan, the skyline of the city receding behind us in a glitter of glass and steel.
The air coming through the cracked window is different here: saltier, heavier, and humming with the restless energy of the weekend as we head toward the coastal roads of Long Island.
"Brooks, you've been suspiciously quiet for the last twenty miles," Ivy says. Her voice is a warm, melodic interruption to the low hum of the tires.
I glance at her. She is in a simple black sundress that should be understated, but on her, it is devastating. Her dark hair is wind-blown and wild. The diamond on her finger catches the passing streetlights, throwing tiny rainbows across the leather interior.
I shift in my seat, having already ditched my tie after we left the city.
"I'm thinking," I say, my hand sliding across the center console to rest on her thigh. Her skin warms beneath my touch.
"That's a dangerous pastime for a man like you," she teases, leaning her head back against the seat. "What about?"
"How much I'm looking forward to not sharing you with Manhattan for the next two days," I say. "No board meetings, no events, no networking. Just us."
She smiles, her hand covering mine. "Us sounds perfect."
"Where are we going?" she asks after a moment. "This isn't the way back to River Bend."
I pull the SUV into a gravel parking lot that holds more memories than it has any right to. The sign above the door flickers in neon defiance: MARVIN'S. The 'M' buzzes with that same angry electrical hum, and the 'S' still hangs by a single screw.
Ivy stills, her eyes widening as she takes in the peeling paint and the row of motorcycles lined up by the entrance. Recognition lights her face.
"You remembered," she whispers.
"How could I forget?" I say, putting the car in park and turning to face her. "Best burger I've ever had. And the company wasn't bad either."
The look she gives me then makes my chest tighten. It is the same raw honesty I saw that first night here, months ago now.
We walk inside. The atmosphere is loud, chaotic, wonderfully unpretentious. No one looks up. No one cares about the cut of my suit or the diamond on Ivy's hand.
We find a booth in the back, the red vinyl cracked and patched with duct tape. Ivy slides in, looking more radiant in the dim, flickering light of a neon beer sign than she ever has under crystal chandeliers.
"The fries are still going to be a cardiac event, Taylor," she warns, leaning her elbows on the sticky table. "And the oil is definitely still older than both of us."
"I'll take my chances," I say, my gaze locked on her.
We order the same burgers, the same fries. We talk about Ever After's latest bookings, about the follow-up meeting with the Hawthornes next week, about how we’ll split our time between Manhattan and River Bend once we are married.
"Your mother is going to have opinions about the wedding," Ivy says, stealing one of my fries. "Strong opinions."
"My mother has opinions about everything," I say. "But this is our wedding. Not hers."
"Good answer." She grins. "So what do you want? Big formal affair at the estate? Small ceremony in River Bend?"
"I want whatever makes you happy," I say. "Though I have to admit, the idea of you walking down the aisle in that barn you turned into Ever After headquarters has a certain appeal."
Her eyes soften. "You'd do that? Get married in River Bend instead of some fancy Manhattan venue?"
"Ivy, I'd marry you in this dive bar if that's what you wanted," I say, and I mean it. "The location doesn't matter. You do."
She reaches across the table, her fingers lacing through mine.
"I've been thinking about something," she says quietly. "About us. About how this works long-term."
"Tell me."
"I love what I've built in River Bend," she says. "Ever After is one-third mine, and I'm not giving that up. But I also love watching you in your element in the city. You come alive in those boardrooms, Brooks. I don't want you to have to choose."
"I don't want you to have to choose either," I say. "So we don't. We split our time. Weekdays in the city when I need to be at Taylor & Associates, weekends in River Bend when you have events. We make it work."
"That's a lot of driving back and forth."
"Then we get a helicopter," I say, dead serious. "I'm not joking. If that's what it takes to build a life with you, then that's what we do."
She laughs, but her eyes are bright with tears. "You'd do that?"
"Ivy, I'd do anything for you," I say. "I'm all in. No hesitation, no second-guessing. This is it for me. You're it for me."
"You're it for me too," she says.
By the time we get back to her apartment, the town is quiet beneath the summer stars. She unlocks the door, and I follow her inside. Moonlight streams through the windows.
"I'll give you the full ten-second tour tomorrow," she says, her voice low and teasing.
"I'm not here for the tour."
I close the door and turn her into my arms. I don't say a word. I reach for the zipper of her dress, the rasp of the metal breaking the silence.
The dress slides down her body, pooling at her feet. She stands before me in the pale light, and a surge of need so sharp steals my breath.
"I love you," I say, my hands framing her face. "I love you, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving it."
"Show me," she says, her hands finding the buttons of my shirt.
I lift her, her legs winding around my waist, her arms locking behind her neck. I carry her toward the window that overlooks the quiet street, the summer stars our only witnesses.
I back her up against the cool glass, the contrast making her gasp.
I shrug out of my jacket, tear at my shirt until it joins her dress on the floor.
For one breathless second, I let her feet find the floor long enough to rid myself of the rest, before I hoist her back up, her legs locking around my waist.
I enter her with a single, deep thrust that makes us both cry out. I watch her face, her eyes fixed on mine, her expression raw and beautiful.
"Look at me," I say, my voice rough.
Every stroke is a promise, every touch a revelation.
"I love you," she gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "I love you, Brooks."
The world narrows to us, this.
Later, as we lie tangled in the massive bed, Ivy traces the line of my jaw with her fingertip. The moonlight catches the diamond on her finger.
"We're going to be a scandal, you know," she murmurs. "The billionaire and the girl from River Bend. Your mother is going to clutch her pearls."
"Let her," I say, pulling her closer. "I don't care what anyone thinks. I've got everything I need right here."
"When should we start planning? The wedding, I mean."
"Tomorrow," I say. "We'll figure it out together. Everything. The wedding, the logistics, all of it. We're a team now."
Ivy smiles against my skin. "A team. I like that."
"Get used to it," I say, kissing the top of her head. "You're stuck with me."
"Good," she whispers. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
I close my eyes, holding her close. No clauses. No exit strategy. No expiration date. Just us.