Page 61 of Stuck With the Billionaire Grump

I make it to my front door before she does, but only barely, because mere seconds after pulling it open, Lucy is throwing herself into my arms. I catch her easily and spin her around, earning a surprised squeal.

“Put me down! You’re too tall!”

I do as she says, but I keep my arms wrapped around her waist. “You’realsoquitetall, Lucy.”

“Slightly taller than average for a woman, yeah. You’re just an abomination, though.”

“Our kids are going to be gangly freaks.”

As soon as I say it, I nearly cringe. Ourkids? Goodness, we’ve only been together for three months. She’s going to think I’m insane.

Except, all Lucy does is throw her head back and let out a bright peal of laughter.

“You’re right.” She sighs, throwing her arms around my neck.

I smile when I catch sight of the necklace she’s wearing. It’s a thin silver chain with three tiny stones hanging from it: a pearl, a garnet, and a rose quartz. Tiny versions of what the wise woman of the beach slipped into my pocket on the night of Josie and Elijah’s wedding.

Lucy giggles. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because you’re pretty.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips. “Are you in love with me yet?”

It’s a game we started playing after our declarations in the Blakeley Manor supply closet.I want to fall in love with you, I had told her. The next morning, the first thing she asked me was if I was in love with her yet.Maybe just a tiny bit, I answered. Then, when I asked her the same question, she shrugged and replied,Almost.

Over the past three months, of which we’ve spent most of the time apart thanks to how much unexpected preparation it took for me to sell my house, pack up my life, and head east, we continued playing the game.Are you in love with me yet?sent via text message and whispered into the phone and scribbled on corny postcards from our respective hometowns.

Almost, she would always say.

Maybe just a tiny bit,I would always answer.

But, this time, I say, “Most definitely, yes.”

Lucy’s eyes widen in surprise. “What?”

“I’m in love with you, Lucy Montgomery.”

She gapes at me. I think I’ve actually rendered her speechless, and I feel oddly proud about it.

“But you haven’t seen me since, like, the beginning of August,” she protests weakly. Not since I bought her a flight for her to come out and visit me in Los Angeles for a long weekend. Honestly, I knew I loved her back then. If my parents hadn’t been out of town to film (two different) movies, I would have introduced Lucy to them right then and there. If only so that I could announce to someone that this girl is the light of my life.

“What does that have to do with me being in love with you or not?”

Lucy blinks. “I don’t know.”

“It’s true.”

“Are you sure?”

I walk her backwards toward the sofa, the only piece of furniture available to sit on at the moment. I lower myself onto it and then pull her into my lap.

“Of course, I’m sure. I love you.”

“But—”

“I love you,” I repeat. “You were right. It’s very easy to do. Loving you is no difficult thing, Lucy. I would have started doing it years ago if I’d known how nice it would be.”

Lucy continues to stare at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her at such a loss for words. I have to admit that I’m a little shocked, too. Just over three months ago, if you had told me I’d be moving to the other side of the country and saying things likeI’m in love with youto someone—let alone Lucy, of all people—I’d never believe it.

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