Redrawing the Lines

I wasn't used to stillness—not the kind that existed between two people without fear or tension. But that's what last night felt like. When Celine laughed, even if only softly, something loosened in my chest.

It wasn't a perfect beginning, but it was something real. A line we'd both drawn and chosen not to cross—for now. A mutual agreement that didn't rely on boardroom deals or family obligations. It was personal. And surprisingly, I welcomed it.

When I left early the next morning for a breakfast meeting with our New York design division, the usual tightness in my shoulders wasn't there. Oliver drove in silence, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror, probably wondering if I'd finally gone mad or if something had finally started to make sense.

By the time I returned, the apartment was empty, but there was evidence of her everywhere. A pair of heels near the window. A scarf hanging carelessly on a chair. A note left on the counter, her neat handwriting confirming her meeting at the gallery and reminding me about Evelyn's informal dinner tonight.

I reread the note twice.

She didn't have to remind me. But she had. That felt like... consideration. A first.

At the office, the boardroom was already buzzing. The joint board session was scheduled for tomorrow. A formality, yes, but also symbolic. Cater and Aldridge leadership sitting down together for the first time as family. United.

The idea still sounded surreal.

"Your mother asked if you'd be early to the house tonight," Oliver mentioned as we wrapped up the last meeting of the day.

"I will be," I replied. "I want to check on Charles too."

When I arrived at the Aldridge estate, Evelyn was already in the dining room arranging silverware. The staff knew better than to intervene when she was in hostess mode.

"You're early," she said, not looking up.

"I wanted to see how everything's holding together before the board meeting."

She finally glanced up, her smile soft. "You mean how you're holding together."

I chuckled. "That obvious?"

She crossed to me, brushing invisible lint off my lapel like she had when I was twelve and nervous for a school debate. "You're doing well, Blake. Better than I expected."

I didn't ask what she meant, but part of me knew.

"Celine," she added, "she's strong. I like her."

"I know."

"She likes you too. She just doesn't know what to do with that yet."

I swallowed. "We agreed to be friends."

Evelyn's smile grew thoughtful. "Sometimes that's the most powerful way to fall in love."

Before I could respond, the door opened and Celine walked in, composed as ever, yet something about her looked lighter. She greeted Evelyn with a polite kiss on the cheek, then turned to me.

"Blake."

"Celine."

It wasn't awkward. It wasn't warm. But it was neutral. It was progress.

Dinner was casual—family-style dishes and light conversation about anything but business. Charles didn't join us tonight, his health still demanding early nights. Evelyn asked about the garden renovations. Celine complimented the vintage china. I mostly listened, until Evelyn nudged us together for dessert.

"I'll get the tea," she said. "You two talk."

We didn't. Not really. But we didn't retreat either.

Celine looked around the familiar room, then back at me. "Do you think this board meeting will go smoothly?"

I considered. "It depends on what we define as smooth."

"No public arguments. No eye rolls. That's my goal."

I smiled. "Then yes, it'll go smoothly."

We shared a quiet laugh.

When I dropped her off at the penthouse later that evening, she paused at the door. "Thank you... for being patient with me."

I nodded. "Thank you for not giving up on this entirely."

She walked inside, and I stood there a moment longer, realizing I didn't feel the usual urge to retreat or build a wall.

This was new territory.

And maybe—for once—I wasn't afraid of where it might lead.

End of Chapter Thirty-Two