Page 79 of Falling for Mr. Grump, the Big City Billionaire

Troy steps up beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Then it’s yours,” he says without hesitation.

I turn to him, startled. “Troy, it’s—”

“A perfect reminder of where we started,” he interrupts, pulling me into his arms. “And of what matters most.”

Our final evening in the city is spent on the penthouse terrace, a bottle of champagne between us as we watch the skyline twinkle in the distance. I rest my head on Troy’s shoulder, feeling both content and nostalgic.

“This has been amazing,” I say, my voice soft. “But I think I’m ready to go home.”

Troy kisses my temple gently. “Then let’s go. Seaside Cove is waiting for us.”

The next morning, we board his jet back to our small coastal town. As the city skyline fades from view, I glance out the window, my heart swelling with both gratitude and anticipation. It’s been an unforgettable adventure, but the thought of returning to Seaside Cove, to the place where our story trulybegan, fills me with warmth. Troy squeezes my hand, a knowing smile on his face.

“Ready for the next chapter?” he asks.

“Always,” I reply, leaning into him as the plane carries us home.

Chapter twenty-three

TROY

I watch the New York skyline fade in the distance as we jet back home. Skye sits beside me, her head resting on my shoulder, her fingers laced with mine. There’s a quiet hum of excitement between us—not just because we’re going home, but because we’re about to start something new.

“Do you think we’ll find a house today?” she asks, her voice soft but tinged with curiosity. And expectation.

I grin, turning to kiss the top of her head. “If not today, then soon. But knowing you, you’ll spot the perfect one the moment we get there.”

She laughs, a light sound that always makes my chest feel full. “I’m not that picky.”

“You fought a billionaire to save your town,” I remind her, smirking. “You’re picky in all the best ways.”

The plane slows as we descend into Seaside Cove, to the proper landing strip this time. The familiar scent of saltwater and the distant cry of gulls pulling us closer to home. When westep onto the tarmac, Skye takes a deep breath, her face lighting up.

“I missed this,” she says, squeezing my hand. “The air smells like… freedom.”

“And fish.” I wrinkle my nose playfully.

She elbows me. “Don’t ruin my moment.”

By mid-morning, we’re driving through town, Skye in the passenger seat with a map of available properties spread across her lap. She’s circled a few listings, each accompanied by her neat handwriting—“Close to beach,” “Big yard,” and my favorite: “Not haunted (hopefully)."

“What about this one?” she asks, pointing to a charming cottage near the edge of town. “It’s got a wraparound porch and… oh, look! A hammock in the yard.”

“Sold,” I joke. “Let’s go see it.”

The house is even better in person. The porch is wide, the shutters are painted a cheerful blue, and the yard is dotted with wildflowers. Skye’s eyes sparkle as she walks through the front door, her fingers brushing the wooden banister of the staircase.

“I can see us here,” she says, spinning slowly in the living room. “You, me, maybe a dog or two…”

“A dog?” I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you were more of a cat person.”

“Why not both?” she counters, grinning. “We’ll have the space.”

The kitchen is cozy, with white cabinets and a farmhouse sink that Skye immediately declares “adorable.” Upstairs, the bedrooms have slanted ceilings and windows that let in soft, natural light. One room, smaller than the others, catches her attention.

“This could be a study,” she says thoughtfully. “Or maybe a nursery someday.”

I stop in the doorway, watching her as she stands there, a dreamy look on her face. “Someday,” I agree, my voice steady with the weight of the promise.

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