Page 22 of Meant to be Mine

“Stop. Sit down.”

“I don’t need to sit down.”

“Kensey, sit down.”

I sat on the couch and watched him go to the mini fridge on the counter that also held a coffee maker, snack basket, and a crystal carafe that I guessed might be scotch. He pulled out two Diet Cokes and handed one to me before he sat down in one of the leather chairs.

I opened the can and took a drink. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was nothing,” he said.

“In front of fourteen models and Annika and her entire team.”

“I promise you, they have seen so much worse. Annika didn’t even blink. It’s a fitting. Things go sideways. That’s the whole point of the fitting. Remember what I told you about my cousin’s big show in Greece. Callum said it was insane. The storm of the century rolled in and soaked the models. Makeup running, runway soaked. Annika still made it happen. Trust me when I say there have been much bigger mistakes.”

I blew out a breath and took another drink. “I don’t know anything about this world,” I said. “I don’t know the difference between a garment number and a model designation. I should have asked. I should have looked more carefully before I just grabbed things and handed them to people.”

“You should have,” he agreed, without any edge to it. “And now you know. And it won’t happen again. That’s how it works.”

I looked at him. “You’re very calm about this.”

“Because it’s fine.” He shrugged. “The clothes are fine. The models are fine. Annika is fine. And you’re fine.” He tilted his head. “Are you fine?”

“My ego has taken a small hit.”

“Your ego will recover.” He smiled. “You’re doing me a favor, Kensey. I need you to remember that. You walked in here with zero context and you’ve been keeping up for the past several hours. One mix-up doesn’t cancel that out. And I’m sure as hell not going to fire you.”

I looked down at my hands for a moment. He had this way of finding the exact thing that needed to be said and saying it without making a production out of it. It was never a big thing, just him being his wonderful self.

I’d missed that. I’d missed it more than I realized. My protector. My champion. I didn’t need a champion but it was nice to know I had one in my corner.

“You always do that,” I said.

“Do what?”

“Make things feel less catastrophic than they are.”

He considered that. “Is that a compliment?”

“Yes.”

He smiled and pushed himself up from the chair. “Okay. Take a breath. Come back out when you’re ready. No rush. I’ll be out there.”

He moved toward the door and I stopped him. “Drew.”

He turned.

“Thank you,” I said. “For being you.”

“Always,” he said simply, and left me to it.

I finished my drink and took my butt back out there. I kept finding myself watching him. I wasn’t making heart eyes at him. But I noticed him in a way I don’t think I have before. He was outwardly attractive. No one could ever deny that, but I saw something deeper. The man on the inside was far more beautiful.

The fourth time I looked up, he was already looking at me.

He raised his eyebrows in that quick, silent shorthand. What’s up?

I grinned.