Page 89 of Billion Dollar Revenge

“Hi,” I breathe.

I look up at him with new butterflies filling my stomach. My mouth is wide open as I stare at him for a moment, still unable to believe that he's here to help me.

“Come inside.” I gesture to the studio. He strides in, and I close the door as he moves straight to the little office where my white desk is. I don't even have to tell him; he's already clicking the mouse and typing on the keyboard.

I stand beside him, watching in awe.

An hour goes by, and I'm all set up.

“Maybe I should test it for you. Book a class from my phone.”

“Good idea. I’ll do that too.”

So we both jump on the website and book a class.

“Have you thought about an app?”

“I thought about using a third-party app because it’s cheaper and easier than setting up my own.”

“I could give you the money. And you can hire someone to set it up straight away.”

As much as I love how sweet of an offer that is, I can’t take it. This is my journey. It’s a dream for me, so I want to do everything on my own. I don’t ever want to rely on a guy again.

I don't have the kind of money or mental capacity to take on something as big as designing my app. It also reminds me how things come easy to him compared to me.

“Thanks for the offer, but right now, I’m happy with the website. Maybe in a few months, I’ll look into the app.”

“Well, it looks like it all works.”

I touch his arm, leaning into him. “Thank you. I’m sorry for bugging you again.”

He twists to face me. “It's my pleasure. It's nice, helping you and doing something other than the same things I do every day.”

We leave my studio and head downstairs. His hand interlaces with mine, and I rest my head on his shoulder, the gravity of how tired I am hitting me now.

We kiss before parting ways.

A few hours later, I arrive at his modern coastal two-story beach house in the Hamptons by helicopter. He had surprised me by organizing it.

His house is stunning. It's all clean lines, large windows, and a mix of natural wood and stone. I wonder if the inside is just as pretty, but as I join him on the porch, where it’s decorated with a comfortable seat and potted plants, he suggests a beach walk.

With our hands entwined, we head to the beach, where I kick off my sneakers to sink my feet into the cold yet soft sand. The shoreline stretches for miles in both directions. I follow his lead as we head right. Soaking in the beautiful sight and the sound of waves constantly crashing, occasionally avoiding seaweed or seashells. It feels like heaven having the wind in my hair and the smell of salty air around us.

As kids laugh with their families and dogs, that hope of my own family one day makes my insides vibrate. The impossible might be possible now.

“How often do you come down here?” I ask.

He sighs heavily. “Not as often as I’d like.”

“Would you live here?”

The atmosphere here is so relaxed compared to the hustle and bustle back in New York. Taking a glance at his bliss-filled face, I look down at our joined hands before back to the people soaking up the sun.

“No. I like it as a summer house, but it doesn’t feel like home.”

I get that, because some houses and areas give you a vacation feeling, not a forever feeling.

“What about retirement?”

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