Page 73 of The Billionaire's Wife

“Ha. Aren’t we all? Why do you say that?” Steve shifted so he could watch me more easily.

“The store is struggling. I sold two books today. Megan said that’s not unusual. She does better on weekends because she’s started hosting local authors and she’s carrying books for independently published authors as well, which helps. But other than books, there’s no draw for people to come in and browse.” I frowned. That made it sound like books weren’t a draw in and of themselves. And for some people they totally were. But not for others.

“She needs a café or something. Toys for kids? Story hour?”

I nodded. “Her husband has been on her about the coffee corner for more than a year, sounds like. But she doesn’t want to damage the business of the shop down the street.”

“Noble. But coffee is coffee. I doubt very much there’s not enough business for both of them.”

I grinned at him. “That’s what I told her. She said she’d think about it more seriously.”

“Helping run. I stand by my previous statement.” Steve nudged me with his elbow. He lowered his voice. “How are you? Really?”

I couldn’t have explained why my eyes filled if my life depended on it.

“Hey. I’m sorry.” Steve slipped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into a half-hug. “You don’t have to tell me.”

I swiped at my eyes and shook my head. “No. It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t know why—”

“Because from what Tristan says, you’ve had a rough go of it for a long time. And now that’s over. It’s natural for your body to need to vent some of those feelings that you’ve been squishing down.”

I sniffled and tried to glare at him. “I don’t squish down my emotions.”

Angie snorted in the kitchen.

Steve looked over. “Something you’d like to add to our private conversation?”

Angie laughed. “You can’t have a private conversation in an open concept floor plan. You know this. I know this. Pretty sure Faith knows it, too.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Steve shook his head. “Fine, fine. Spit it out, Ang.”

“Faith knows what I meant.” She shot me a pointed look.

I sighed. “Fine. Okay? Yes, I keep my emotions to myself. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.”

“Oh, but honey, you’re wrong.” Angie pointed the wooden spoon at me. “It’s not healthy, for one, and it means people around you can’t help out.”

I winced. The second reason was the primary reason I did it. My parents had always turned emotions into a high-stakes game, and I was always the loser.

Angie nodded. “You’re not there anymore. You have Tristan. And us. And, if I’m hearing what you’re not saying, Megan, too. Plus the rest of Tristan’s friends, because they’re a great group.”

“It’s hard.” I snapped my mouth shut on the rest of the sentence. That was enough. The Lees knew enough about my life to know anything I was thinking of adding.

“I know it.” Steve rubbed my shoulder. “But you need to learn how to lean. Tristan’s got broad shoulders for a reason, and not just because it helps him look nice in a fancy suit.”

My cheeks heated again at the gleam in Steve’s eyes.

“Steve, stop. We promised we weren’t going to pry.”

I cleared my throat. “Where is Tristan?”

“Didn’t I say? Oh my goodness, I get so scatterbrained sometimes.” Angie rolled her eyes. “He ran out to get some bread to go with this soup. The wimpy slices of mass-produced so-called whole wheat he has languishing in his fridge will not do justice to my culinary prowess.”

Steve laughed. “She’s humble, my wife.”

“And you love her for it.” I grinned. I’d always envied Tristan his parents. They loved each other so visibly. And they had fun together, too. I think, under everything, they were the kind of friends to one another that made a solid bedrock foundation that could weather any storm.

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