Chapter 37
DREW
Two days later, I found myself back at the store with Edith, walking her through everything she needed to take over as manager.
Most of it she already knew. She’d been running the floor operations for months.
But there were admin things, access codes, vendor contacts, and the quarterly reporting structure that I needed to hand off properly.
We spent three hours going through it all. She absorbed everything with her usual brisk efficiency, taking notes on her tablet and asking clarifying questions when needed. I showed her how to access the financial dashboards and explained the communication chain with the New York office.
“Adrian will want updates on everything,” I said. “Nothing formal. Just an email summarizing sales, any issues, upcoming events. He likes to keep an eye on things.”
“Understood.” She made another note. “Do I need to approve everything through him?”
“This is your store now, Edith. I imagine there might be a transitional period, but it won’t be like that forever.”
We finished going through the last of the documentation. She closed her tablet with a satisfied click. Everything had been covered. There was nothing left to hand off.
“I think that’s everything,” I said, standing up from the new desk in the manager’s office. That had been Edith’s only condition. She wouldn’t come back unless we replaced the desk, and I honestly couldn’t blame her.
What she didn’t know was that I had moved the old desk to my house. Kensey was going to die when I showed it to her. I couldn’t wait.
Edith stood as well, smoothing her skirt. “Thank you for being thorough.”
We walked toward the door together. The store was bustling. Things had picked up a lot since the Blackwell Summer events. For me, it felt like the end of an era. I would miss the place, but what I had ahead of me was so much better.
At the door, I stopped and turned to face her. “I never thanked you for being cool after you caught Kensey and me. You could have raked me over the coals.”
Edith’s expression remained neutral, but I saw her tense up. “It was unprofessional and not something any employee should have to worry about seeing at work.”
“I know. And I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“That being said,” she continued, the edge gone, “you were a decent boss otherwise. You listened when I had suggestions and the store has been thriving.”
I felt some of the guilt ease. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“Thank you for bringing me back for the promotion. You didn’t have to do that.”
“You earned it,” I said simply. I pulled the store keys from my pocket and held them out to her. They felt heavier than they should have. Responsibility. Trust. The end of one chapter and the beginning of another.
She took them, her fingers closing around the metal. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.”
We shook hands, formal and professional, and then I walked out of the store for the last time as its manager. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking back at the building. I felt lighter than I had in months. This had been the right decision. I knew it in my bones.
I pulled out my phone and called Kensey as I walked to my car.
“Hey,” she answered, sounding slightly out of breath. “How’d it go?”
“Good. I’m officially an unemployed loser.”
She laughed. “How does it feel?”
“Honestly? Pretty great.” I unlocked my car and slid into the driver’s seat. “What are you up to?”
“Come over to my house for dinner. Mom’s cooking.”
“What’s she making?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. I’m on my way.”
I ended the call and started the engine.
The drive to Kensey’s parents’ house was familiar, but everything felt different now.
I wasn’t just Drew, the family friend who’d been around forever.
I was Drew, Kensey’s boyfriend. The man who’d upended his entire life to be with her.
And she was upending hers to be with me.
I pulled up in front of the house twenty minutes later. Kensey was waiting on the porch, wearing cutoff shorts and one of my old T-shirts. She must have grabbed it from my place at some point. Seeing her in my clothes did something to me.
“That was fast,” she said as I climbed the steps.
“I was motivated.” I pulled her against me and kissed her, not caring that we were in full view of the neighborhood. “Missed you.”
“You saw me this morning.”
“Still missed you.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled against my mouth. “Come on. Mom’s almost done with dinner.”
I followed her inside, the smell of home cooking hitting me immediately. Mrs. Blake was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. She looked up when we entered and her whole face lit up.
“Drew! Perfect timing. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I said, which wasn’t entirely true but I knew better than to turn down her cooking.
Mr. Blake appeared from the living room, newspaper tucked under his arm. “Drew, how’d the handoff go?”
“Smoothly.”
“Good, good.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Strange feeling, isn’t it? Walking away from something you helped build.”
“A little,” I admitted. “But it’s the right move. I have no doubt about that.”
“Sometimes the right move is the hardest one.” He said it like he knew from experience. I knew he’d retired last year. I imagined he did know what I was feeling.
Dinner was pot roast with all the fixings—roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, homemade rolls that were still warm from the oven.
We sat around the dining table, the four of us, and it felt completely natural.
I’d eaten at this table hundreds of times over the years, but this was different.
This time I was here as Kensey’s partner, not just her friend.
Mrs. Blake kept piling food onto my plate despite my protests. “You’re too thin,” she insisted. “Kensey, is he eating properly?”
“Mom, he’s fine. Trust me, he packs away the food.”
“He looks like he’s been living on takeout.”
“I have been living on takeout,” I admitted. “But I’m working on it.”
The conversation flowed easily through dinner.
Mr. Blake asked about my new role with the investment portfolio, and I explained as much as I understood so far.
Mrs. Blake wanted to know when Kensey was planning to start job hunting, which led to a discussion about schools in the area and which ones might be a good fit.
“There’s that charter school in Pasadena,” Mrs. Blake said. “I heard they’re always looking for good teachers.”
“I’ll look into it,” Kensey said. “I’m meeting with Victoria next week. She said she has some contacts.”
“That’s wonderful.” Mrs. Blake beamed at both of us. “I’m just so glad you’re staying. Both of you being here together, it’s what I’ve always hoped for.”
Kensey’s face flushed. “Mom.”
“What? I’m allowed to be happy about it.” She turned to me. “You know we’ve always thought of you as family, Drew. This just makes it official.”
It made me feel good. I loved my family but having another set of parents felt like a huge bonus. “Thank you, Mrs. Blake. That means a lot.”
After dinner, Mrs. Blake insisted on bringing out dessert—apple pie she’d baked that afternoon. As she cut generous slices, she launched into what I immediately recognized as dangerous territory.
“You know,” she said, settling back into her chair with that gleam in her eye that meant an embarrassing story was coming, “I was thinking about when Kensey was younger. Do you remember, honey, when we went shopping for your first bra?”
I watched Kensey’s face turn bright red. “Mom, no. Why would you bring this up?”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Blake continued, completely ignoring her daughter’s mortification. “She was twelve, maybe thirteen. I’d been trying to get her to go for months, but she kept insisting she didn’t need one.”
“Mom, please stop.”
“So finally I convinced her to come with me to the mall. We’re in the fitting room at Macy’s, and the saleswoman is trying to measure her. Kensey was having an absolute meltdown about the whole thing.”
I tried to keep a straight face.
“She kept saying, ‘But, Mom, boys are going to know I’m wearing a bra!’” Mrs. Blake was laughing now, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
“And then the woman told her about various bras for when she got older. She looked at me, pure horror in her eyes and said, ‘I’m going to have to wear this thing for the rest of my life?’”
Mr. Blake was chuckling quietly into his coffee. I started laughing.
“I hate you all,” Kensey announced, but she was fighting a smile.
“And then we finally get one that fits, and we’re walking out of the store, and she’s convinced everyone in the entire mall knows what we just bought. She made me hide the bag inside another bag so no one would see through the bag.”
“That’s adorable,” I managed to get out between laughs.
“It’s humiliating,” Kensey corrected. She reached for one of the dinner rolls still sitting in the basket on the table. “Mom, I’m warning you.”
“And then she put it on inside out!” Mrs. Blake exclaimed.
The roll hit her square in the chest.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Mrs. Blake looked down at the roll that had bounced off her and landed on her plate. Then she looked up at Kensey, eyebrows raised. Mr. Blake’s mouth hung open slightly, his coffee cup frozen halfway to his lips.
Then Mrs. Blake burst out laughing. “Did you just throw bread at your mother?”
“You were warned,” Kensey said, but she was laughing too now, her face still flushed with embarrassment.
After dinner, I helped clear the table despite Mrs. Blake’s protests. Kensey and I stood side by side at the sink, loading the dishwasher.
“Your mom’s in a good mood,” I observed quietly.
“She’s thrilled. I think she was more excited about us getting together than I was.”
“Impossible. I was pretty excited.”
She laughed and handed me a wet plate. “You hid it well.”
I slipped the plate in the bottom rack. “So. Victoria next week?”
“Yeah. She wants to introduce me to some people, help me get my foot in the door.” Kensey scrubbed at a pot. “It feels weird, using connections like that. I’m used to doing things on my own.”
“Nothing wrong with accepting help when it’s offered. Especially from family.”
She looked up at me, her hands still in the soapy water. “Family.”
“That’s what we are now, right? You’re dating a Blackwell. That comes with perks.”
“And baggage.”
“Mostly perks,” I insisted. “Private jets, yacht parties, green smoothies from Hollis.”
“The smoothies are actually pretty good. And I could swear I felt better after drinking it.”
“Come back to my place,” I said, pulling her close.
“I have stuff to do here.”
“What stuff?”
“Laundry. Emails. Job applications.”
“Do it at my place.”
She laughed. “You’re very persistent.”
“It’s one of my best qualities.” I kissed her forehead, then her nose, then finally her mouth. “I have a washer and dryer. WiFi. A very comfortable bed.”
“Is that your sales pitch?”
“Is it working?”
She pretended to think about it. “Maybe. But I need to grab some things first.”
“I’ll wait.”
She disappeared upstairs and returned ten minutes later with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. We said our goodbyes.
“This is becoming a habit,” she observed as we pulled away from the curb.
“Good habits are important.”
“Moving in together after two weeks is not a good habit. That’s how people end up on reality TV shows.”
“We’ve known each other for over a decade. I think we can skip the traditional timeline. And you’re not moving in. It’s a sleepover.”
“I’ve slept at your house more than home.”
“Weird. It’s almost like we live together.”
She reached over and laced her fingers through mine. “Kind of.”
Walking in with Kensey beside me, the space felt different. Less empty. More like a home and less like a place I slept. She would move in. I just had to wait and let her come to the decision on her own. But she would.