Page 88 of Forking the Billionaire

But seconds passed. Pots and pans clashed in the kitchen. Then silence.

No hoot followed.

I waited on baited breath.

“Rufus, where’s your spatula?” Sage asked.

“Missing,” he said.

“The anole smasher? That’s weird,” I said.

“I know what you’re up to.” He waved a finger at me.

“I didn’t take your spatula.”

He put his hands on his hips and flattened his mouth into a line. “Maybe. But you let that vermin get away.”

“And almost got hurt in the process,” Sage said under her breath with a very I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed look at me.

She’d never looked at me like that before. So many people had—Oma, Gabe, Uncle Wallace, my first-grade teacher Mrs. Calloway, and oh so many teachers after her. But never one of my friends.

I appreciated Sage’s concern for my well-being. I really did. But also, I could handle it. I could handle everything. And I was going to be just fine.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and caught a glimpse of the dent in the wall that could have been in my hand.

Or what if it had been my belly?

Panic or regret or something altogether unpleasant prickled across my skin and twisted in my stomach. I repeated to myself,I have everything under control.

TWENTY-THREE

JASPER

Calm, crystalline water stretched in every direction. I sat on my rented surfboard and stared up at the clear blue sky.

While the waves were nonexistent, I was getting everything I’d wanted—surfing and bonding time with my brother and my best friend. I should have been content.

But there was an emotional screw turning slowly, digging deeper into my chest.

Esme hadn’t been at breakfast. Every interaction and conversation felt different without her, duller and lighter at the same time. The morning had been perfectly nice. Without her around, no one was teasing me or pressuring me or causing conflict when there didn’t need to be any.

And I missed all of it. I missed her.

It was ridiculous. I’d seen her just last night.

I’d never missed someone after a few hours apart before, and I didn’t care for it.

I should have been chasing after Gabriel, enjoying easy conversation about how excited he was to start his new married life. Instead, my mind wandered to what Esme might be doing at work.

Was she feeling queasy, glad to have a break from the pressure of the wedding festivities, or did she feel like she was missing out? Or was she smiling, not thinking about me at all, as she laughed about some stupid thing her musicianfriendsaid?

“What did you do?”

I blinked and found Oscar in the water beside me. Despite the accusation in his words, his tone was neutral. So was his expression.

Did he know about Esme? A spike of concern sent my gaze searching for Gabriel, who I spotted swimming out of earshot.

Better not to guess and spill something I shouldn’t.

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