Chapter 29
twenty-nine
. . .
Maci
Encrypted Chat Reply Rune
Your dad is a smart man. Obviously you’re a branch off his tree.
Encrypted Chat Reply Glitch
I think the saying is the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
You’re funny. One of the reasons we’ve been friends for almost a decade.
I don’t even know how I’m standing. My knees are weak and I can almost see my heart pounding against my chest.
That kiss—that kiss was on a whole different level.
Maybe because it was unexpected or maybe because it was Witt showing me that he’s choosing me. Letting everyone know without having to communicate verbally to his family or employees.
The announcer continues wrapping up the event while everyone mills around the stage.
Parker walks over shaking his head and asks, "Dude... did you see that last touchdown?"
Witt still hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
"I did."
“Mary Beth used my avatar."
"I noticed," Witt states in a flat tone.
"I taught her that hot route."
Witt nods. "Parker, you’re clearly the star of the evening."
Parker laughs. "Smart ass."
“I’d like to celebrate and get to know the woman who has stolen Witt’s heart,” Annika says as she slips her hand into Parker’s.
Birdie immediately says, “We have a sitter that has a curfew, but next Wednesday."
“Us too. Sutton and G already left with the kids. But I already have Wednesday night on the calendar,” Noelle says as she goes around the family hugging everyone.
“Next Wednesday,” Annika agrees.
My brows lifts, "What happens next Wednesday?"
"Margarita Night." Noelle grins. "It’s mandatory."
Matt laughs shaking his head as he tucks Noelle under his arm. "It’s not mandatory."
"It is if you plan on surviving this family,” Birdie chimes in.
J.D. says, "It's the O’Ryan initiation. Birdie came up with it. But don’t worry, they’re only mildly terrifying."
Everyone laughs.
His dad simply smiles and gently touches my arm. "I think you've already passed the hardest test."
“Test?
Mr. O’Ryan glances at Witt. "You made him smile."
Dara comes up and commands. “You two get out of here.”
I don’t miss the wink she gives me.
Then Witt pumps my hand with his and quietly says, "Let's go home."
Home?
Home.
I freeze for a half-second. "I should stay."
Witt tilts his head. "Why?"
"They still have to tear everything down."
He looks around. "We have an operations crew."
"But—"
"They're already doing it."
I glance around and dozens of employees rolling cables and packing equipment. The cleaning crew already pulling bags from the trash containers. The caterers are pulling the food and drinks.
“You did your job. Now let them do theirs.”
I study him like he’s speaking in code but he’s right so I nod in agreement.
"Good. Because I want to spend what’s left of the evening with you."
Witt gives his family a quiet glance and I can tell by their expressions that Witt has done something that is almost impossible to believe. He kissed me in front of everyone.
On the way out of the pavilion, I stop to slip off my heels, and the second my feet touch the floor, the pain finally catches up with me. Apparently launch-night adrenaline is a very effective anesthetic until it decides to abandon you in public.
Witt notices immediately. His gaze drops to my feet, then to the shoes dangling from my fingers, and without a word, he takes them from me. One heel. Then the other. Like it’s nothing. Like carrying my shoes through a crowd is as natural as breathing.
Then he tightens his grip on my hand and keeps walking, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles. The gesture is small, almost absent, but it sends warmth through me anyway. Because Witt doesn’t do careless things. If he’s holding on, it’s because he means to.
We wind down the hall to his personal elevator. Right before we get there, I break the silence.
“That was quite a night.”
He looks over. “The launch exceeded all expectations.”
“It did,” I smile at how everything went as planned. Fans bought jerseys, even Mary Beth’s. Our social media team showed me dozens of posts with fans saying how much fun it was. “But I wasn’t talking about the competition… I was … I was talking about the kiss.”
Witt presses the button twice until it lights up blue. He doesn’t respond so I don’t know if he’s waiting me out or if he’s realizing he shouldn’t have done that in public, so I give him a nudge my shoulder against his arm.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say.
“I know.”
“I’m your employee.”
“I couldn’t help myself,” he says. “I’ve never seen a star shine so bright.”
It’s simple to Witt. Just a fact. He needed to kiss me.
“Will there be repercussions from the employees? HR? The board?” I ask, as the doors open smoothly.
“I’ll handle it.”
It seems like we’ve walked a mile to get to the penthouse. The pavilion is a fair distance from the executive elevators. Then it requires a key to get to the penthouse.
The doors open, humming softly.
It’s silent.
No cameras or music. No fans cheering or gamers screaming directions to their teammates. Exactly what I need—quiet after the storm.
He sits my heels on the marble countertop.
“So… So…”
He never stammers. Witt says exactly what he means. It’s one of the things I love about him, he always, always is clear in his directions after he’s listened.
“I hope I didn’t put you in an awkward position.”
“You put us both right smack dab in the middle of awkward.”
His hands slide over my arms. “Do you regret it?”
I push to my toes and slip my hands around the back of his neck. “Not even if I lost my job. That kiss was worth it. You’re worth it.”
He awards me with a gentle smile. “Good, because I don’t regret it either.”
I don’t know who moves first. Maybe him.
Maybe me. Maybe both of us finally stop pretending there’s any distance left to protect.
All I know is that one second we’re laughing, and the next his mouth is on mine, soft at first, then certain, like we’ve been working toward this exact rhythm without saying it out loud.
It isn’t frantic. It isn’t desperate. It’s quieter than that. Sweeter. Our lips move together with the strange, careful joy of two people discovering they’ve already crossed into something real. Something unnamed, maybe, but not uncertain.
We haven’t said what we are. We haven’t drawn a line around it or given it a label. But as his hand tightens around mine and he smiles against my mouth, I think maybe we don’t have to.
Maybe this is the answer.
Maybe we’re already in it.
Witt exhales as we pull apart.
I turn, pulling my hair over one shoulder.
“Would you unzip me?”
He sucks in the breath he just let out and folds one hand over my shoulder and the other slowly tugs on the pull, slow and reverent, like he’s cataloging the moment.
The dress loosens.
I let out a sigh of relief and spin back to face him, holding my dress against my chest. “Oh, I can finally breathe.”
“Does Maci Hart require oxygen?”
“I do.”
He smiles.
“Do billionaires?” I ask with as much playfulness as I can muster when I’m running on fumes.
“I do. Tomorrow, I’m going to have an oxygen bar installed.”
I laugh.
He doesn’t. He’s contemplating what to say. I know that look.
“I will.”
“Just make sure to get cute colors. I can see the women in your family changing margarita night to your place.”
Rubbing his fingers over the stubble on his jaw, he considers it. “You’re right. No oxygen bar,” he says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Before I truly got to know him, I didn’t know how to take his little remarks. But now, I understand that’s how he communicates with people. If he wasn’t sarcastic, he wouldn’t be Witt. That’s how he disarms people, especially his brothers.
His fingers play with mine and as he leans into kiss me again, I yawn. Not a petite yawn, a full on Pteranodon yawn, mouth as wide as it will open without coming unhinged.
Amusement plays in Witt’s eyes.
“I should probably…”
He raises a brow.
“Sorry, I guess the adrenaline has worn off.”
“I need to work on being romantic,” he whispers.
I yawn again and have to shake my head to make it go away.
“Witt, kissing me in front of everyone and then carrying my heels for me is romantic. You don’t have to try. You already are.”
How does this man think he needs to level up his romance skills?
“Do you mind if I go to bed?” I ask, almost apologetically.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead he takes that half step, closing the short distance between us. We’re so close that the warm hint of his cinnamon breath floats over my skin.
“Only… if it’s with me.”
“I thought you would never ask.”