Page 131 of Forking the Billionaire

I needed more time. I wanted him to make the next move.

I just hoped he’d do that sooner rather than later, because I didn’t know how to fix what was broken between us.

THIRTY-FIVE

JASPER

I dragged my feet up the new porch steps of my current project house. It had taken days of my assistant Marc’s increasingly frustrated texts and phone calls to get me here.

I patted the freshly-painted yellow front door. “Don’t worry, Brenda. I’m home.”

The words felt empty.

Transforming an underappreciated house so everyone could see her value—this was my calling. The construction site—my happy place.

Except it didn’t feel happy.

Epiphany didn’t feel like home.

When I opened the door, the scents of sawdust and fresh paint greeted me. I breathed them in.

This was where I was supposed to be. This was my life. I loved my life.

How pathetic was it that I had to try to convince myself that I loved my life?

I wandered to the kitchen, taking in the artisan details I’d hired out, and the refinished floors I’d done myself. Restoration was a labor of love. There was nothing like breathing new life into a project with my own two hands.

I leaned against the new farmhouse sink and peered out over Brenda’s freshly landscaped backyard. Amongst the heirloom rose garden, a wooden pergola shaded a bench that looked remarkably like the bench in Gabriel’s back yard that Esme had picked out.

Had I subconsciously made the choice thinking of her, when I hadn’t seen her in years? She was like a climbing rose bush, entwining herself so completely into my system that even when I hadn’t realized I’d been thinking about her, I was.

A bright face popped up in front of the window.

Rosy-cheeked Marc beamed at me. He mouthedyou’re here.Thendon’t move,with a warning glare.

Then he disappeared, no doubt hurrying around to meet me.

A moment later, he was standing with me in the kitchen, a ball of energy.

“You’re here,” he said.

“Yep.”

“I thought the contractors and their constant disasters were going to be the death of me.”

“I’m glad you’re alive. Sorry to hear it was so much trouble.”

“It’s fine. Or it will be, after the two weeks paid vacation you’re going to offer me.”

I chuckled. “Done.”

He offered me his hand. I shook it, only to find a key slipped into my palm. It was his key to Brenda.

He nodded, a pleased grin on his face. “I’ll be off then. My vacation starts now. How was the wedding?”

“Nice,” I said, but it felt like such a meaningless answer.

The wedding had been heartfelt and joyous. The waves had been all right. No adequate words existed to describe how life-changing the trip had been. Or there were, but I couldn’t express them.

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