Page 100 of Forking the Billionaire

Finally, we reached the end of the hall, to the room with the broken floor I’d jumped up on before. I put an arm out in front of Esme.

Esme yawned again.

“You’re tired,” I said.

She waved a hand at me. “I’m fine.”

“I’mtired,” I said.

“Liar.”

I made a big show of stretching my arms over my head and faking a yawn.

She chuckled. “That’s the fakest yawn I’ve ever seen.”

“I think we should head back.”

She shook her head. “You’re ridiculous. I’m old enough to decide my own bedtime.”

“I’m not,” I said. “If I don’t hit the hay by ten, I turn into a crying, hysterical toddler.”

“Hit the hay? No one but grandpas say that.”

“Okay, then I’m too old. I turn into a crying geezer. If I get too tired to walk, are you going to carry me back? I can’t sleep here or I’ll throw out my hip.”

“Fine.” The smile on her face betrayed her annoyed tone. “I’ll deposit you back at the retirement home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

“Is that a Cinderella reference? I heard only old people say things like that.”

“It’s a shut-up-you’re-getting-your-way reference.”

We headed back to her place.

“I know you said you were tired, but if you’d like to come in for a drink, I’ll allow it,” she said.

“Isn’t drinking frowned upon in your condition?” I asked, a touch concerned, as I followed her inside.

“Ineverdrink alcohol,” she said with a shake of her head.

Her denial was so emphatic it seemed to take over her whole body in a shiver.

“Never?” I asked. “Even before the pregnancy?”

“Well, I’m underage, or I would be in the states.”

Right. How had I not thought of that? “But you’re a little rebel. I’m not implying you should drink now, but before, you were always an expert at pushing boundaries and testing rules.”

“I tried being a rebel once.” She gestured down over her frame. “And that’s howthishappened. The universe has a perverse sense of humor like that. There wasn’t even alcohol involved.”

“How did you land a bartending gig without drinking experience?”

“Internet research. I showed up to that interview prepared.”

“Impressive.”

She shrugged. “I needed the job.”

I followed her to the kitchen, where she pulled out a box of tea from the cabinet and a couple of unmarked jugs and bottles from the fridge. I leaned on the counter as I watched her in her element.

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