Page 46 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

The thought slams into me with the force of a tidal wave. More. I want her laughter, her touch, the way her eyes light up when she’s teasing me. I want everything. And that’s exactly why I need to stop this madness. Liz isn’t just anyone. She’s Bryan’s little sister, a woman far too good for someone like me.

I shove the covers off and get to my feet, shaking my head as if I could physically dislodge the memory of her lips against mine. But it’s there, branded into my brain, and no amount of denial is going to erase it.

The shower does little to clear my head. As the water cascades over me, I find myself weighing the pros and cons like it’s some kind of business decision.

Pro: Liz makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t felt in years.

Con: She’s too young. She deserves someone without baggage.

Pro: She fits into my life so effortlessly, it scares me.

Con: She’s Bryan’s sister.

The list goes on in my head. The cons outweigh the pros, but it doesn’t stop the part of me that aches for her, that wants to find her and kiss her again, consequences be damned.

When I step into the kitchen, the sound of laughter greets me, light and musical. It stops me in my tracks. Liz is sitting at the table with Max, who’s busy spreading an alarming amount of peanut butter onto a piece of toast. Sue hovers by the stove, flipping pancakes, her cheerful humming filling the room.

Liz is stunning in the morning light, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She’s wearing a simple sweater and jeans, but she might as well be draped in silk for how beautiful she looks.

My chest tightens as I watch her laugh at something Max says, her nose scrunching up in that way that makes my heart lurch.

I force myself to step into the room, clearing my throat. “Morning.”

Sue looks up and smiles. “Morning, Nate. Coffee’s fresh.”

Liz glances at me briefly, her expression unreadable. “Good morning,” she says, but her eyes don’t meet mine.

The awkwardness is palpable, a thick, suffocating weight that settles over the room. I sit down at the table, the wooden chair scraping against the floor louder than I intended.

Liz doesn’t look at me again, but I can’t stop looking at her. The way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the curve of her neck as she leans forward to help Max with his toast. Every little movement feels like a magnet, pulling me closer, tugging at something deep inside me I can’t name.

And then there’s the guilt. The gnawing feeling that I should have stopped the kiss last night. That I was in a better position to pull back, to keep things back to platonic.

But I didn’t.

And the thought that she might regret it, that she might wish it never happened, is like a knife twisting in my chest.

Breakfast is quiet, the tension a silent third guest at the table. Max chatters away, oblivious to the strained atmospherebetween Liz and me. I respond when he speaks, but my focus keeps drifting back to her.

When it’s time to go, I’m almost relieved. Maybe the car ride will clear the air, though I doubt it.

The drive to Max’s school is awkward, the silence broken only by Max’s usual morning grumbles. He’s in no mood to be dropped off, protesting every step of the way.

“Can’t I stay with Liz today?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as we pull into the drop-off lane.

Liz turns in her seat, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Max. You’ve got important things to learn today. But I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?”

Max pouts but nods, leaning over to give her a quick hug before climbing out of the car.

As soon as he’s gone, the silence in the car shifts. It’s heavier now, charged with the weight of unspoken words.

I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white as I navigate the quiet streets. I can feel Liz’s presence beside me, her gaze fixed on the window. The tension is unbearable, and I know I have to address it.

“About last night,” I start, my voice low.

Liz turns her head slightly, her expression neutral. “What about it?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

---