Page 72 of Never Fake Date the Financier
The newly renovated theater is packed to capacity. Teachers, students, community members, even local politicians have turned out for this dedication ceremony. It’s Ella’s triumph, the culmination of three years of tireless work, fundraising, and advocacy. Her foundation has finally brought arts education back to her hometown with plans to expand to other areas with need.
I thought she’d attack this project at a slower pace, but once she got her first paycheck, she became a woman on a mission. Unstoppable. It was a little scary how tenacious she became, if I’m honest. I’ve seen some ruthless businessmen and women in my day, but Ella could put all of them to shame.
And all I can think is how lucky I am to be married to her.
“When I was a student in this very theater, Mrs. Kelley taught me that my voice mattered. Today, we ensure that every child who walks through these doors will know that their voice matters too.”
Next to me, my mother dabs at her eyes with a tissue. On my other side, Max leans in and whispers, “Your wife is something else.”
“Don’t I know it.”
And at this point, everything seems to fade away. Ella’s voice. My brother. My mother. Everyone in the auditorium. All I see is Ella. All I hear is my heart beating and beating. Beating for her and only her. No one in this world comes close to her in comparison. Although if Snickerdoodle could hear my thoughts, she’d disagree. Fortunately, she’s come around to Ella.
I turn my attention to the stage just as Ella gestures to the wings. “And now, the woman who made all of this possible. The teacher who inspired not just me, but generations of students to find their voices. Please welcome Mrs. Eleanor Kelley.”
The applause is thunderous as the small, white-haired woman makes her way onto the stage. She walks with a cane, but her eyes are bright and her smile is radiant as she takes in the renovated theater that will bear her name. They embrace each other on stage, and I can see my wife blinking back tears.
“I’ve been retired for almost a decade,” Mrs. Kelley says into the microphone, her voice surprisingly strong, “I always thought my legacy would be the memories my students carried with them. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this.”
She gestures to the state-of-the-art lighting system, the new sound booth, and the comfortable seating that replaced the worn-out chairs from Ella’s high school days.
“But that’s what happens when Ella Bridges—excuse me—Thorne gets an idea in her head.” Mrs. Kelley turns to my wife.
Ella’s eyes are glistening with unshed tears. That’s my girl. Brilliant and determined. Passionate and tenacious. She refused to take a dime of my money for this project.
“We’re a team,” she’d told me. “But this foundation is my baby.”
Baby.
The word reverberates in my head. It won’t be long now. A few more months. Even now, I can still hardly believe it. But then I see that bump and my heart swells with joy. And then something else because I love my girl even more now that she’s pregnant.
I glance back at her on stage. She and Mrs. Kelley are cutting a large red ribbon stretched across the theater’s new proscenium arch. Cameras flash. The crowd cheers. But all I can think about is getting her out of here. Getting her home. Forcing her to have a little bed rest…
“She’s extraordinary,” my mother says softly.
“She is,” I agree, chest swelling with pride.
When the crowd finally starts to disperse for the reception in the school gymnasium, Ella makes her way to us, radiant despite the exhaustion evident in her slow gait.
“You were perfect,” I tell her, pulling her into a tight hug.
“Did I ramble too much about the sound system? I feel like I lost the thread in the middle.”
“You were eloquent and passionate,” my mother assures her. “Everyone was captivated.”
“Especially Adrian,” Max adds, grabbing my shoulder. “Pretty sure he didn’t blink the entire time you were on stage.”
Ella’s laugh vibrates against my chest. “He’s contractually obligated to look at me that way. It was in our marriage vows.”
“Must have missed that one,” Sariah murmurs. “Oh, right, I missed the entire ceremony because I was driving my belligerently drunk sister back to her hotel after she crashed it in a wedding dress. I’m so sorry about that,” she adds, shaking her head.
Ella laughs. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Did that happen?” I mutter as I lean in, my lips brushing Ella’s ear. “I was too focused on my gorgeous wife.”
I kiss her neck. Her cheek. And then her lips as she bats at me. I don’t care who’s watching. I love my girl, and I’ve been waiting half an hour to kiss her again.
“We’ll catch you guys at the reception,” my brother says as I swallow Ella’s whimpering complaint in my mouth.
