Page 66 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

But neither of us makes the first move.

The walk back to the car is quiet, but it’s not an awkward kind of silence. It’s the kind that feels full—of unspoken words, of possibilities.

Liz’s hand brushes mine as we walk, and I don’t hesitate to take it, lacing our fingers together. She glances at me, a small, shy smile playing on her lips, and I feel my chest tighten all over again.

When we reach the car, I open the door for her, and she slides in with a quiet “thank you.”

The drive back is just as quiet, the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio filling the space. I glance at her occasionally, taking in the way her hair catches the light, the soft curve of her smile.

When we pull up to the house, I kill the engine but don’t move to get out. Instead, I turn to her, my hand resting on the gear shift.

“Tonight was perfect,” I say, my voice low.

She looks at me, her eyes shining. “It really was.”

For a moment, I consider leaning over, kissing her again. But something stops me; maybe the weight of the night, maybe the fear of pushing too far too fast.

“Goodnight, Liz,” I say instead, my voice soft but firm.

“Goodnight, Nate,” she replies, her smile lingering as she opens the door and steps out.

I watch her walk into the house, my chest tightening with a mix of emotions I’m not ready to unpack.

As I sit in the car, staring at the now-closed door, one thought stands out above the rest.

I’m completely, undeniably falling for her.

And there’s no turning back now.

***

The rain doesn’t let up, hammering against the windows and creating a steady rhythm that fills the otherwise quiet house. It’s early, and the kind of morning that makes you want to crawl back under the covers. Max has no concept of “lazy mornings” when it's raining. But the gloomy weather sure matches his usual morning grumpiness.

I’m in the kitchen, staring at the coffee machine as it sputters to life, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee slowly filling the air. It’s a small comfort on a day like this, but I’ll take it.

Sue called earlier to say she couldn’t make it. Something about the storm flooding the roads near her place. I told her not to worry, but now that I’m standing here, I’m starting to realize I have no idea what we’re going to do for breakfast.

Liz enters the kitchen a moment later, her hair slightly damp and a blanket draped over her shoulders. She looks cozy, the kind of cozy that makes you want to sit by a fire and do absolutely nothing all day.

“Morning,” she says, smiling softly as she leans against the counter.

“Morning,” I reply, my voice still rough from sleep.

“Let me guess,” she says, glancing at the empty stove. “Sue couldn’t make it?”

I nod, taking a sip of my coffee. “Roads are a mess.”

She hums thoughtfully, her gaze shifting to the pantry. “Well, someone’s gotta make breakfast. I can do it.”

I raise an eyebrow, smirking over the rim of my mug. “You?”

“Yes, me,” she says, placing a hand on her hip. “What’s that look for?”

“Just… wondering if you’re qualified,” I tease.

Her jaw drops slightly, and she crosses her arms. “I’ll have you know I make an excellent breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon—you name it.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Alright, if you’re so confident, go for it.”

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