by Aven Ellis
I want that life for me.
After all that’s settled, I’ll wait for Harrison to come back from Vail. I’ll show him the new Kylie, the Kylie that has always been there, but needed his love to set her free.
And I just pray he has looked in the mirror and become the man he is destined to be, too.
“So how are you, Kylie?” Mona asks on Friday morning as I hand her a Starbucks cup of coffee. “How are you coping with all this drama?” Then she shivers. “I would hate to be in your shoes, with all those videos and things . . .”
I hand a cup of coffee to Bradley, then one to Alyssa. It is my first day back at work since the blowout with Harrison, and I feel nothing but relief in my soul.
Because I’m about to show everyone at Boutique Dallas the new Kylie Reed.
Laurel has her hand stuck straight out, waiting for me to place her ridiculous order in it. I hand it to her, and then I turn back to Mona.
“I realize now that I can’t control what people post or say about me, online or in-person,” I say honestly. “So I chose to ignore it. I’m going to focus on the things I can control. Which is me, and how I respond to things. Speaking of which, can I please have a word with you, Mona? In private?”
Mona blinks. “What?”
“Let’s go out on the floor,” I say, opening the door. I know Bradley and Alyssa are glancing at each other, and even Laurel looks up from her computer screen.
I open the door and motion for Mona to go through. She does and I walk over to the Men’s Department, sinking into a leather chair.
“Have a seat,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee.
Mona furrows her brow and sinks down in the chair across from me. “Why do you need to talk to me in private, Kylie?”
“Mona, I need for you to stop rearranging my display work here,” I say matter-of-factly.
Mona’s eyebrows shoot up. “What? Kylie, I was simply—”
“Mona,” I say, interrupting her, “I was hired to do the visual displays for this store. Every time you rearrange them, you’re interfering with the design flow I’ve worked very hard to create for Boutique Dallas.”
Mona huffs. “Kylie, you’re being oversensitive about this. I know what’s best, and I’m just trying to help you be better, that’s all.”
“I’m not being oversensitive,” I say in a calm, matter-of-fact voice, although my heart is pounding. “I’m asking you to acknowledge the job I was hired to do by the owner of this store. I’m in charge of visual displays. Period. And going forward, I ask that you respect my work by leaving it undisturbed.”
Then I get up and walk back into the breakroom.
As I open the door, I can’t quite believe what just happened. I did it. I stood up for myself, and it was okay.
Bradley and Alyssa walk past me, giving me curious looks, but I say nothing. I’m going to be professional and keep that conversation between me and Mona.
I take another breath. Now it’s time to talk to Laurel.
“Laurel? May I have a word with you?”
Laurel looks up at me with a painfully bored expression on her face.
“Only if you keep it brief. I’m very busy today.”
“Absolutely,” I say. “First, I want to thank you for bringing that Twitter poster to my attention. As you know, we were able to get that removed, so I thank you for alerting me to it.”
Laurel nods. “I’m glad you were able to pull that garbage down.”
I draw another breath to get my courage up. I ignore how my heart is pounding in nervousness and move ahead with what I’ve wanted to say for a long time now.
“Laurel, you might not even be aware you do it, but sometimes you make comments about me dating Harrison that make me uncomfortable.”
Laurel looks at me as if I have grown a second head. “Kylie, you can’t be serious. Of course I don’t.”
“You do, Laurel,” I say. “I don’t mind answering general questions about our relationship, but I won’t tolerate demeaning comments about being Harrison’s ‘current flavor,’ if you understand what I’m saying. It’s not appropriate for the workplace, Laurel.”
Laurel narrows her eyes. My heart stops.
She’s pissed.
But you know what? She’ll get over it.
Or I can find a new job.
It’s really that simple.
“Fine,” Laurel snaps, looking back at her computer.
“Thank you,” I say, then I turn around and head back to my desk, where I have my sketches pinned up for future projects.
Except today I’m sneaking in a little personal work during this morning.
And I begin sketching the logo for KR Vintage Designs. First to be used on my Etsy shop account I’ll open today, then later on for the website I want to launch.
I’m going to sew like crazy every night this week. I’ll have these aprons ready for sale by the time Harrison comes home.
KR Vintage Designs is my future.
So is Harrison Flynn.
And I’m determined to have both of them in it.
Chapter 29
The Pop Quiz Question: The future of your relationship is going to be determined tonight. How do you feel about things?
A) Who cares? No man is worth the drama of being in a relationship . . .
B) We will have a calm, rational discussion and come to a conclusion that suits both parties for the best, even if it means splitting up.
C) I will fight with everything I have to get us back together. He’s my soul mate.
It’s finally the night I’ve waited two long weeks for.
Harrison is home from Vail. He texted me right before he stepped on the airplane.
And I’m leaving now to go talk to him.
I stand in front of my bathroom mirror, nervously playing with my hair. I swallow hard as I adjust the spaghetti straps on my sunshine yellow fit and flare dress. It’s the middle of September, but it is still steamy hot out in Dallas. Of course, I feel nothing but nervous and cold inside, as the words ‘we need to talk’ after two weeks of not talking aren’t a good sign.
I pick up my hairbrush and run it through my long, dark locks over and over, my stomach churning with each brush stroke. I might be anxious and fearful, but I know one thing for sure.
I won’t let go of my Prince Harry without a fight.
I grab my purse and head out the door, running down the steps. I hurry to my car, slide behind the wheel, and begin the quick drive over to the home we’ve been renovating. My chest is tight. My brain won’t stop running. Harrison wants to talk, I think, his words torturing me. We haven’t talked for two weeks. Harrison didn’t call, he didn’t text . . . God only knows what was going through his head. Does he think we’re better apart? Does he want to end things tonight?
No, I tell myself. You know this man. You know Harrison better than anyone else. There’s no way he’ll give up on us. He needs me as much as I need him.
WAMTB, I think. We Are Meant To Be.
My heart is pounding as I turn my car down his street. As I near his house, I tap the brakes. Wait . . . what is that?
I slam on the brakes in the middle of the street.
There is a FOR SALE sign in the front lawn of Harrison’s house.
I feel as though I’ve been punched.
Harrison is selling our home.
The home we designed together, took apart together, renovated together is for sale.
Tears fall from my eyes. I’m shaking so hard I’m gripping the steering wheel for support. I can’t breathe.
This means only one thing.
Harrison has decided we should split up.
Oh God. Oh God. This isn’t happening. I love him! I love him like I have loved no other
man. We bring out the best in each other, can’t he see that?
Then it hits me full force. He doesn’t know I love him. Harrison doesn’t know how I’ve changed.
And he didn’t give me the chance to even explain.
Before I know it, hot, angry tears prick at my eyes. The old Kylie would have accepted this. I would have bravely accepted the break up and left with my broken heart in pieces.
But I’m not that woman anymore.
I pull my car up into the driveway. Instinct takes over. I jump out of my car, storm across the lawn, and uproot the real estate sign and drag it up to his front steps.
I hear Cooper and Lola barking before I even press on the doorbell.
Then I hear Harrison issue a command, and the dogs go silent as I ring the bell.
Harrison opens the door, but before he can say a word, I brush past him, hurling the FOR SALE sign across his foyer. It crashes with a bang and skids a few feet before spinning to a stop. The dogs start barking, and Harrison’s eyes stare at me with nothing but shock.
“What the hell?” Harrison cries.
“You’re not selling our home!” I blurt out. “You’re not!”
“Who said I was selling our house?” Harrison yells back.
“Come on, Harrison!” I cry as hot angry tears spill down my cheeks. “I just threw the sign at you! You had that in the yard!”
“Yes, because the dumb ass realtor put the sign on the wrong property,” Harrison says. “I told her I wanted to list the other house. Not this one.”
Oh fuck.
I stare at him and swallow hard. “So . . . so you aren’t selling this one?” I ask in a small voice.
“No,” Harrison says simply.
“Oh,” I say, feeling like an idiot.
I look down at the hardwood, and notice I have put a nice scrape in the new flooring by hurling the sign across it.
“How could I sell this house, Kylie?”
Harrison’s eyes are searching mine.
“The Pop Quiz Question,” Harrison says softly, stepping closer to me. “I know you’re waiting for Prince Harry, and I’m just a guy from Boston who chases a puck with a stick for a living . . .”
I hold my breath as Harrison hesitates for a moment, and then lifts his hands to my face, caressing it gently. “. . . and I’m madly in love with you,” Harrison continues, his voice soft. “I love you in a way I didn’t even know was possible. You’re sensitive and compassionate. You’re artistic and intelligent and you amaze me with the way your mind works.”
Harrison pauses before continuing. “You’re the most supportive person I’ve ever known. I feel like I can do anything when you’re with me. You captivated me from the moment I looked into your brown eyes, Kylie Reed. You’re gorgeous, sexy as hell, and the most passionate woman I have ever been with. And even though I’m not Prince Harry,” he says softly, “and if I didn’t completely screw things up in our fight, I was wondering if there was still a chance you could love me back.”
“No,” I say simply.
Harrison looks absolutely stricken by my answer. “What?” he gasps, his eyes wide with panic.
“You’re already my Prince Harry. Don’t you know that?” I say, gazing at him through my tears. “I love you, Harrison. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”
Harrison presses his forehead against mine. “I love you the same way, Kylie. And I thought I really fucked everything up by saying the things I did—”
“No,” I say quickly, pulling his head back so I can gaze into his eyes. “You were right about me. I used the future as an excuse to avoid any kind of confrontation. To avoid disappointing people. To avoid failure. But not anymore.”
Harrison’s eyes search mine. “What do you mean?”
“Loving you,” I say, my voice breaking, “has set me free. Your strength, your conviction, your belief in me—it gave me the ability to believe it in myself. I have a whole new world open to me now, not one that will be lived later. So I told Mona to leave my displays alone. I told Laurel to respect me when speaking to me.”
“Holy shit,” Harrison gasps. “You did that?”
I nod happily. “I did. And I have a plan for KR Vintage Designs. I’m going to open an Etsy store to sell them. And the last part of the equation,” I say, barely able to get the words out, “is you, Harrison. My life is with you. You’re so strong and brilliant and gifted. Your heart is giving, and what you do for others—the mental health campaign, the fans, my sewing studio—showed me what a compassionate man you are.”
Then I take his hands in mine and squeeze them tightly.
“Harrison, I learned something from the Twitter incident,” I say quietly. “It was upsetting and embarrassing, I don’t deny that. But at the end of the day you’re right. I can’t care what people say about me. So I choose not to. I don’t care about the pictures or Seekers or Flynnbabes. I’ll learn to manage that because I love you. I want a life with you. I know we haven’t been together very long but I knew it early on, Harrison. You’re my Prince Harry. And I want our life to be here, in this house. Just say you want that too, Harrison. Please tell me you want that too.”
Harrison’s eyes grow watery. “You . . . you really do want that, don’t you?” he whispers.
I can’t speak. I simply nod and bite my lip to keep from sobbing.
Harrison begins wiping the tears off my cheeks with his fingertips. “When I left you two weeks ago, I was so pissed at myself,” Harrison says slowly, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I was so afraid of my celebrity chasing you away that I became overzealous in my protection of you. I should have exposed you to some of it to teach you how to cope. And that’s my fault, Kylie. I’m so sorry.”
“No don’t be—”
“Shhhhh,” Harrison says, putting his fingertips over my lips. “You need to hear what I’m going to say. You were right about me fearing the future. About what my life will be like after hockey. But knowing you believe in me the way you do, that you’ll support whatever I chose to do when my career ends—your love made me braver, too. So I . . . I looked into some online classes. Psychology ones. I can take those in the summer to expand my knowledge. I want as much knowledge as I can so I can be a life coach for young players.”
My heart absolutely leaps with joy. He heard my words and took them to heart. Harrison has chosen to believe in himself just like I have.
Together we are stronger, I think. We believe in each other, encourage each other, we love each other. Harrison is everything I wanted and so much more. And just when I don’t think I can love him any more than I do, he does something like this which makes my heart burst at the seams with joy.
“I’m so proud of you,” I say, my voice shaking. “You’re going to be an amazing life coach. You are. You have been for me.”
Harrison puts his hands back on my face, tilting it up toward him. “You’re everything to me. You have been since the second we met.” He pauses and swallows hard. “I love you,” He says, his voice breaking. “I know this is insane, and I know we’ve only been together for a few months, but I know you’re The One. I’ve known it since the first night I met you.”
“I knew it, too,” I whisper happily. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
Then Harrison’s mouth meets mine in a slow, gentle kiss that tells me this man is mine for the rest of my life. I melt into his arms and he pulls me closer as my lips press against his.
Harrison breaks the kiss and stares at me. “I’m going to propose to you,” he whispers, running his hands through my hair. “I would do it right now if I didn’t think it would totally freak your parents out.”
I smile up at him. “The new Kylie doesn’t need her father’s blessing to get engaged, Harrison Flynn.”
Harriso
n grins at me. “Well, as wicked awesome as the new Kylie is, I’m going to do this right. When the time’s right, I’ll ask your father for your hand. But that’s merely a formality. You’re my fiancée right now in my heart.”
“And you’re mine,” I say, my eyes filling with fresh tears.
We kiss again. I rake my fingers through his gorgeous ginger curls and feel his five o’clock shadow brush against my face. God, this is bliss. I can’t help but think I’m dreaming. That I’m in the arms of my ginger Hockey God, and I’m going to be his wife. We’re standing in the foyer of our house, the one that we built together, and this is where we’ll live and raise our children.
Harrison breaks the kiss and entwines my hand with his. “I need to show you something I had done while I was in Vail.”
I furrow my brow. “How did you do anything here when you were at training camp?”
“The magic of having an interior designer, a contractor, and construction teams is a huge bonus,” Harrison says, grinning at me.
I laugh and he leads me down the hall to the kitchen. And as soon as I step into the room, both my hands fly to my mouth as I gasp.
The kitchen of my dreams is completely finished.
“Harrison,” I gasp. I begin to shake. I slowly walk around on the reclaimed barn wood flooring, drinking in the white cabinets with glass panels, and I see beautiful pottery bowls that are painted white with robin’s egg blue polka dots and stripes on them, the retro small juice glasses and mixing bowls . . .
My eyes dart around to take everything in. I see my beautiful vintage style blue oven, the butcher-block countertops, the stunning silver pendant lights hanging down over the kitchen island. Oh! There’s my Cath Kidston mini Strawberry fabric used as a curtain under the farmhouse sink, and then I notice the big round white table in the nook with upholstered chairs in the same Cath Kidston fabric.