Page 107 of No Rings Attached
I covered my eyes. “Okay, okay. Stop. I’ll admit, it might have crossed my mind that you might like it, but seriously, you can’t do that. I have to work.”
His laughter echoed in the partially furnished space.
It didn’t escape my notice that he’d sat at the far end of the couch, respecting work boundaries I hadn’t even set yet.
The direct opposite to how Kyle used to be was so glaring in this moment.
When I first started to hone my craft, anytime I tried to write he’d find ways to distract me or whine that I was ignoring him. I wished I’d never moved in with him. The worst part was when he gave me space to “support” my writing, he’d find ways to make me pay for it later in either silence or low-key snarky comments.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
CELIA
URGENT.
A second later another text came in.
CELIA
Problem with the favors. I need you.
Another buzz.
MOM
Answer your sister.
Guilt prickled—and then passed. I turned the phone facedown. Drew’s eyes flicked to mine, unreadable, but his hand found my calf and squeezed once.
Approval. Support. I exhaled.
For once, I didn’t rush to fix what they were demanding. I chose me.
I chose this moment.
We worked in companionable silence for almost two hours. Drew’s pen scratched in his sketchbook, his hand occasionally drifting along my leg in absentminded comfort. When I closed my laptop at last, stretching my arms over my head, his gaze tracked the lift of my sweatshirt like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Snack break?” he asked, pulling the tray closer.
“And cuddle break,” I countered, sliding under his arm. His warmth enveloped me instantly.
“Words flowing?” he murmured against my hair.
“Better than expected. You?”
He held up his work, sketches of jewelry filling the page. I traced the lines with my fingertip, awed as he described the metals and stones he’d use. “These are incredible. You should design again. A Heritage Collection—modernized classics. You’d honor your family and make something new.”
His jaw worked. “Time. I don’t know if I have it.”
I touched the center of his chest. “Doesn’t matter. Whatdoesmatter is whether this makes your soul sigh in joy.”
His silence was answer enough.
I leaned closer, heart pounding with the need to show him his dreams mattered. “Don’t let go of it, Drew. Please.”
He kissed my temple again, softer this time. “I’ll think about it.”
My heart flipped. “Good. Feel free to tell me to shut up if you don’t want me to push you. I just waited so long to start my writing journey that I hate to see others do the same.”
