Page 119 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

I hadn’t been this verbal about the difficulties of suddenly switching from child to parent, of basically caring for a full-grown infant and no longer having Dad’s friendship, his counsel and advice, to anyone. Who did I have to talk to? I had no siblings. Even Uncle Henry wasn’t around.

I hadn’t realized how lonely I was, how much I’d bottled everything up, until I let it all go. First to Hazel earlier, now to Duncan. The expansion in my chest reminded me of the steam release knob on my Instant Pot. Steam gushed from me, releasing ounces of pressure along with it.

“That’s rough,” Duncan said.

I went on, grateful for his listening ear. “He’s constantly asking about his brother, Henry. My Uncle Henry died six years ago, and Dad can’t remember that anymore. My only worry being here so far away is that he won’t remember me when I get back home.”

“And I had to add to your worries by putting you in danger,” Duncan said.

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Not intentionally,” I said. “You triednotto, remember?”

Duncan stroked my cheek with his finger. “Your dad couldn’t forget you.”

I gazed into his molten eyes. “That’s sweet of you, but so not true. He can forget me. He already is. I came here with you because he needed me to.”

I sniffed, battling more emotion in my throat. “I know I need to leave, to go back to him, but I don’t want to be away from you, either.”

His eyes registered the words with flickers of surprise, and he reacted as though he hadn’t heard me properly. “Do you mean that?” Duncan asked.

I ran my hands along his arms and stared at his shirt bearing the name of the town that had brought us together. Eureka Springs. I’d never forget this trip. Never.

“I do. I had no idea how much until yesterday, but it’s been building for so long now, hiding inside of me. Then last night, when you kissed me…I don’t want to be away from you.”

“Then I’ll come, too. I’ll schedule the flight home. We’ll stick to the plan. Go to my grandma’s party and then head home immediately afterward. Okay?”

I gaped at him. We? He was coming, too?

“You don’t have to come,” I said, thinking of his staff, of this house. “If you wanted to stay…”

He stopped me with a finger to my lips. I pressed a kiss there before he lowered his hand and sat on the nearby metal chair.

He was at a better angle for me to look at him straight on. With my hand in his, he asked, “What would keep me here?”

I heard what he didn’t say:If not you?

My heart stopped. At that question. That look.

Duncan had been right. I wasn’t used to being taken care of. For so long, with my parents as aged as they’d been even in myteenage years, I’d taken on the role of caregiver much sooner than I expected to. I’d looked after Dad for years now. I’d taken care of the expenses, shouldered the responsibility of his needs, of Mom’s funeral, of keeping Dad’s and my head afloat for years.

This was what it was like to have someone look out for me? To have someone care about me, love me, watch out for me? I wasn’t sure how to handle this.

“Duncan,” I said. I was completely breathless. “Thank you.”

Days ago, he’d argued for me to meet his demands. Now, he was showing he heard and respected me.

He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. “No. Thank you. For seeing me as I could be. For helping me be the man I should be.”

I reared back just enough. “Did you just say ‘thank you’?” I teased.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

The moment hovered, and we just stared at one another. Before I could figure out what to say next, he held up a finger, he lifted his phone, tapped it, and answered a call I didn’t know he’d gotten.

“This is Duncan.”

His eyelids dropped. He stood up straighter, rigid and composed, and then when he addressed the caller, I understood why.

“Hello, Mother.”

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