Page 60 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
But she’s not the woman she used to be. And I’m not the man who watched from the sidelines, afraid to step forward. We’re in this together. Finally.
I press a kiss to her shoulder, her skin warm under my lips. We’ll face whatever comes. And I’ll fight to keep her, every damn day.
31
IVY
The space is raw. Exposed beams, concrete floors, and enough dust in the corners to make it clear no one’s loved this place in a while. I think of every space I’ve walked through before this one, every gallery, every office, every home that never really felt like mine. But here, now, something shifts. It’s not just what I see, it’s what I feel. Like the walls are waiting for a new story. Our story. Our foundation.
I step in slowly, the echo of my heels bouncing off empty walls. Light pours through a wall of tall windows, the kind that stretch nearly to the ceiling, flooding the space with golden afternoon haze. It’s massive, but not impersonal. Not to me.
Jack watches me with a gaze that’s half-assessment, half-affection, but there’s something else there too, an edge of vulnerability, like he’s holding his breath, waiting to see if I’ll say yes to more than just the space. “It used to be a furniture warehouse,” he says. “I’ve owned it for a few years. Never figured out what to do with it.”
I walk toward the far end, letting my fingers graze the exposed brick. “Why now?”
He shrugs, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Because it’s time. Because I want something that’s ours.”
That word,ours, lands deeper than I expect. I turn to face him fully. “Jack, this place is…”
“Too much?” he offers, arching a brow.
“It’s perfect.”
Relief flickers across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He walks over, pulling a folded sketch from his coat pocket. “Ari helped me draft a few ideas. Nothing locked in yet. But I figured, something hybrid. Gallery meets startup incubator. Your design clients. My investment connections. A foundation wing for young artists, maybe. We could build something that bridges both our worlds.”
I unfold the sketch. It’s rough, but it’s real. Shared desks. Lofted gallery walls. A private studio in the back with skylights penciled in. I blink hard against the rush of emotion.
“You really want this?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Jack’s hand finds mine. “I want you to have a place where your work doesn’t have to fit anyone’s mold. And I want a space where we can make decisions without asking permission.”
I look back at the room, the beams, the windows, the light, and for the first time since everything fell apart, I feel possibility rise in my chest instead of fear.
“I want that too,” I say. “All of it.”
We explore the rest of the space together, side by side. Jack shows me the freight elevator, the mezzanine level he wants to convert into a conference loft, the rear patio with potential for rooftop access. He talks logistics, zoning permits, fire code, cost estimates. But through it all, his excitement never dims.
“You already talked to Rosenthal about this?” I ask as we climb the stairs to the mezzanine.
He nods. “She thinks it’s a good idea. A clean slate. A new chapter for the Foundation, one that’s ours, not just mine.”
I pause at the railing, looking down at the open floor below. “Then we’ll name it together.”
Jack smiles, stepping behind me, his hands resting on my hips. I let out a slow breath. For the first time in ages, I feel like maybe I don’t have to brace for something going wrong. Maybe I can trust this. Trust him.. “We could call it Stone & Wilson. Or… no names at all. Just a symbol. Something new.”
I turn to face him, aware of how close we are now. His breath brushes my cheek. My pulse skips.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say, softer than before.
His brow furrows. “You okay?”
I nod, then lean my forehead against his chest. “I think I’m more than okay. I think for the first time in a long time, I can actually breathe.”
His arms wrap around me, and we stand there, still and quiet, in the center of everything we haven’t built yet. I can feel the steady beat of his heart and wonder if he can feel mine racing.
As he holds me, I let my guard down, just enough to feel how far we’ve come. Not just from the chaos of Derek and everything that almost broke us, but from ourselves. From the parts we hid behind strategy and silence. This new space, this idea, it’s more than a project. It’s a promise.
