Page 98 of Meant to be Mine

The store was my responsibility. I couldn’t just walk away because I’d fallen in love. That wasn’t how family worked. That wasn’t how business worked. But what if I could do both? What if there was a way to keep the store running without being physically present every single day?

I pulled out my laptop and opened my calendar. Most of my meetings could be done remotely. The day-to-day operations were handled by a team I trusted. Edith could run the floor better than I could. The real question was whether I could let go of the control, trust the people I’d hired, and step back without everything falling apart.

I leaned back in my chair. The office felt too big suddenly, too empty. I’d spent months building this, proving I could do it, showing everyone I wasn’t just a Blackwell coasting on the family name. And I’d succeeded. The store was thriving. The events were generating buzz. The numbers were good. But sitting here alone, staring at spreadsheets and vendor contracts, I felt hollow.

I thought about Kensey’s job in New Jersey. The kids she talked about with so much passion. The way her face lit up when she described a breakthrough moment with a struggling student. That was her purpose. That was what made her feel like she was contributing something meaningful to the world.

What was mine?

I’d told myself the store mattered. And it did. But did it matter more than being with the woman I loved?

I stood and walked to the window, watching the crew setting up barriers for the sidewalk sale. People were already gathering, curious about what was happening. Soon, the plaza would be packed with people, all here because of the work we’d done. It felt good. But it didn’t feel like enough.

I thought about grand gestures. Flying her somewhere exotic. Renting out a restaurant. Hiring musicians. But Kensey wasn’t impressed by money or spectacle. She’d grown up middle class, worked her way through college, built a life on her own terms. She valued authenticity over flash. She loved the private plane and the penthouse, but that was fun. That was extra. I wanted to do something that would appeal to her.

So what did she need to hear?

That I loved her. That was obvious. But words alone weren’t enough. I needed to back it up with action. With proof that I wasn’t just saying things I thought she wanted to hear. I needed to show her I was willing to fight for this. For us.

But how?

I couldn’t move to New Jersey. Not yet. Not while the store needed me here. But maybe I didn’t need to be here every single day. Maybe I could split my time. Spend three weeks in LA, one week in Jersey. Or two and two. Something that let me keep my responsibilities here while also being present in her life. It wasn’t perfect. But it was something. It was a start.

And maybe that was enough. Maybe love wasn’t about finding the perfect solution. Maybe it was about being willing to get creative, to compromise, to build something new together instead of forcing each other into boxes that didn’t fit.

I pulled up my email and started typing to Briggs. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I laid out a scenario I’d never seriously considered before. A question that could change everything. A possibility that might give Kensey and me a real shot instead of this ticking clock we’d been ignoring. I read through it twice, making sure I’d been clear about what I was asking. Then I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

The email whooshed away into the digital void. Now I just had to wait. I stood up from my desk, rolling my shoulders to release some of the tension that had settled there. Whatever Briggs said, at least I was doing something. At least I was trying to find a way forward instead of just accepting defeat.

I headed back down to the main floor. The chaos had evolved into something that actually looked organized. I spotted Kensey and Micah near the front windows, both of them studying a tablet and gesturing at the plaza outside. I made my way over.

“How’s it looking?” I asked.

Micah glanced up. “Good. Really good, actually. We’re ahead of schedule.”

I looked at the setup taking shape around us. “What do you need from me?”

“Muscle,” Micah said immediately. “We’ve got some of the bigger display units that need to be moved into position. The crew’s handling most of it, but we could use an extra set of hands.”

“Done.”

For the next two hours, I threw myself into the physical work. Kensey worked alongside me, directing placement and double-checking everything against the master plan.

“You’re really good at this,” I told her during a brief break.

“Thanks.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “It’s kind of like teaching, actually. Planning, organizing, anticipating problems before they happen.”

“You should consider doing this professionally.”

She laughed. “I have a profession.”

“I know. What’s next?”

She consulted her tablet. “We need to finish the jewelry section. Then the shoes. Then we can call it a day on setup.”

“Lead the way.”

After all the manual labor, I had to go into my office and do some actual work. Kensey went to her desk to take care of some emails. At five, I closed the laptop and grabbed my keys. Kensey was waiting for me downstairs, scrolling through her phone and looking tired but content.