Page 44 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, but they do little to quell the image of her smiling at Max, ruffling his hair like she’s always been part of our lives. It’s not just her presence; it’s the way she fits. Too perfectly. Too naturally. And it terrifies me.

I scrub my hand down my face, frustration bubbling under my skin. Sleep isn’t happening tonight, not with this storm raging in my chest.

With a sigh, I reach for my phone, hoping the glow of the screen will distract me. But the moment I unlock it, I’m greeted by a series of unread messages from Becky.

Let’s talk. Lunch tomorrow?

We need to work things out for Max’s sake.

Dinner Friday? Just the two of us. Like old times.

My jaw clenches, and I toss the phone onto the desk as if it’s burned me. Becky’s attempts to worm her way back into my life are glaring, persistent, and, frankly, exhausting. But I’ve grown numb to them. She doesn’t matter anymore – she’s just the woman who bore my son. She doesn’t compare to Liz in any way.

Liz.

I push the thought aside and head to the kitchen, hoping a glass of water will help. The moonlight spills through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. I drink the water slowly, letting the sound of my swallows fill the empty space.

As I lean against the counter, glass in hand, I catch a flicker of movement outside. My brows knit together. Everyone should be asleep by now.

Setting the glass down, I move toward the back door, quietly opening it. The cool night air greets me, carrying the faint scent of salt and pine. I step onto the porch, my eyes adjusting to the darkness.

And then I see her.

Liz.

She’s sitting on the edge of the porch steps, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring out into the night. Her hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the silver light of the moon. She doesn’t notice me at first, too lost in her thoughts.

Something tugs at my chest, a mix of relief and something deeper—something I don’t want to name.

“Liz?” I say softly, stepping closer.

She jumps slightly, turning to face me. Her wide eyes glimmer in the low light, and for a moment, she looks vulnerable, almost startled, before recognition softens her expression.

“Nate,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure I mean it. “What are you doing out here?”

She exhales, her shoulders relaxing. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought some fresh air might help.”

I nod, leaning against the porch railing. “Same here.”

For a moment, we’re both silent, the sound of crickets filling the space between us. Then I ask, “Mind if I join you?”

She hesitates, her lips parting slightly as if to protest, but then she nods. “Sure.”

I sit beside her, leaving enough space to be respectful but not distant. The wood is cool beneath me, and the night stretches out in front of us, vast and endless.

“What’s keeping you up?” I ask after a while, keeping my voice low.

She shrugs, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “A lot of things. Life. Work. Memories.” She glances at me, a faint smile playing on her lips. “You?”

“Same,” I say, though the weight behind my answer feels heavier. “Work mostly. And... other things.”

She arches a brow, her curiosity evident. “Other things?”

I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. But something about the way she looks at me—open, genuine, unguarded—makes it impossible to hold back.

“Becky,” I admit, my voice bitter around the name.

---