Page 51 of Stuck With the Billionaire Grump

Stacy rolls her eyes. “I’m not trying to flatter you, Theo. I’m trying to hire you. What do you say?”

I blink in surprise. Leave it to her to try to broker a business deal at a wedding dinner. I stare down at my plate, as if the answer will be hidden among the perfectly roasted and spiced vegetables. Then, to stall for time as I try to gather my thoughts, I reach for my wine glass and swallow down a large gulp.

The truth is, I’m well aware that I don’t have much going on in my life in California. I’m a loner who spends most of his time huddled in a dark office, coding for random clients. And that’s really more of a hobby than a job, considering the app I designed when I was freshly graduated earned me a nine-figure paycheck that is now very wisely invested and growing every day.

I don’t really need a job. I never did, honestly. If I wanted to lean into the spoiled Hollywood brat image, I could’ve foregonecollege entirely and lived off my family’s wealth for my entire life. I’m not that kind of guy, though. And I like to stay busy.

What’s really keeping me in Los Angeles? It’d be easy enough to sell my house. I don’t exactly have much of a social life that I’d need to say goodbye to. My parents are there, but they’ve got their careers and their respective posses and devoted fans. They don’t really need me around.

In fact, getting away from California might be the breath of fresh air that I’ve been in need of. Back there, I’m Theo Danvers, the son of the glamorous Daphne Shay. It’s not an image that I can ever escape, no matter how hard I try to differentiate myself from my spotlight-hungry relatives. Life in Hollywood is all about who you know. It’s about glamour and show business. Lights, camera, action.

In Boston, maybe things could be different. The film industry doesn’t dominate that city. Chances are that most people won’t know or care who I am, just like here in Mermaid Shores.

In fact, Boston isn’t far from here. Andhereis where Lucy is…

I take another gulp of wine and stop that thought in its tracks. I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Listen,” Stacy says when it’s clear that I have no idea what to say to her. “I’ll email you some more info, yeah? I’ll lay it all out for you and copy my assistant on it so she can also answer any questions you might have. Just think about it, Theo. I know it’d be a big move, but I’m certain it’d also be the right move.”

She punctuates her little speech with a wink.

I guess there’s no harm in considering the possibility, so I nod. “Sure, Stacy. Send me an email. I’ll think about it.”

She beams. I smile back.

And then, my heart picks up its new favorite song all over again.Lu-cy. Lu-cy.

Chapter Seventeen: Lucy

Everything is totally perfect, just like I planned it.

I’m a genius, really. A bona fide event-planninggenius. Humility can’t touch me tonight, because I know that everyone knows that this is the most beautiful wedding of the decade.

The transitions have been seamless. The ceremony flowed into the cocktail hour without any hiccups, which then melted into dinner without the need for any herding.

And now, the final crowning jewel… the reception.

Josie and Elijah have already cut the cake. The DJ is coaxing everyone out onto the dance floor with fantastic remixes of old songs from our teen years mixed effortlessly with more current music. Everyone is smiling and laughing and mingling, their eyes bright and cheeks pink with joy.

It’s perfect. Really, it is.

Despite that, there’s something strange and unfamiliar nibbling on the edges of my heart. It’s as if something is missing. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Lucy! Finally! I’ve been looking for you for ages!”

I turn to see Eric shouldering his way through the crowd toward me. I feel a trickle of disappointment followed immediately by a shiver of guilt. Eric is a nice guy, but he’s not really the person I was hoping to see right now.

Then again, the person I want to see probably doesn’t want to see me. Which explains why I haven’t seen him since the ceremony. Honestly, I can’t even explain why I want to seehim, of all people, right now, but…

“This has gotta be the best wedding I’ve ever attended,” Eric tells me. “Seriously, like—I mean, I know I’m a guy and I don’t really understand all that color theory and interior design stuff, but I think I was getting a little teary-eyed over how pretty the conservatory was. That was all your doing, wasn’t it?”

“Men are perfectly capable of appreciating aesthetics,” I reply lightly. “Failing to do so isn’t a biological shortcoming, but a societal one.”

Eric frowns in confusion.

“Thank you, though,” I continue. “Yes, the color scheme and the lighting were my brain child, but the Blakeley Conservatory is already insanely gorgeous without me adding anything to it. I was working with a good canvas.”

I don’t know why I’m talking like this. Why am I being so formal? So vaguely rude? I should be thrilled right now. I should be my normal friendly, chatty self.

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