Page 67 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

“But you have to help,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Help? I thought you were the expert.”

“I am,” she says, grinning. “But even experts need assistants.”

Max bursts into the kitchen just as we’re gathering ingredients, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What’s for breakfast?” he asks, his voice still groggy but full of excitement.

“Pancakes,” Liz says confidently.

“Can I help?”

“Of course,” she says, ruffling his hair. “You can be my second assistant.”

Max grins, grabbing a stool and pulling it up to the counter. Boomer follows close behind, wagging his tail and sitting attentively by Max’s feet as if he knows he’ll be the first to catch any stray bacon.

Liz cracks eggs into a bowl, and Max stirs them with a whisk, his movements clumsy but enthusiastic. I’m tasked with flipping the pancakes, though Liz keeps hovering, giving me unsolicited advice.

“Don’t flip them too early,” she says, leaning over my shoulder.

“I know how to flip pancakes,” I reply, glancing at her with mock annoyance.

“Sure you do,” she says, smirking.

Max laughs, clearly enjoying our banter. “Liz, you’re bossy!”

“Am not,” she says, feigning offense.

“You are,” I agree, smirking at her.

She sticks her tongue out at me, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s all so easy, so natural. For a moment, I forget about everything else - work, responsibilities, even the rainstorm outside.

By the time we sit down to eat, the kitchen is a mess. Flour dusts the counter, and there’s a sticky puddle of syrup where Max accidentally knocked over the bottle. But the pancakes are golden and fluffy, the bacon is crisp, and Max is grinning from ear to ear.

“This is the best breakfast ever,” Max declares, his mouth full.

Liz laughs, reaching for her coffee. “High praise. What do you think, Nate?”

I glance at her, the corner of my mouth lifting. “Not bad. For amateurs.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother hiding her smile.

As we eat, I can’t help but notice how easily Liz fits into our routine. She’s laughing with Max, helping him cut his pancakes into smaller pieces, and stealing bites of bacon from my plate when she thinks I’m not looking.

It hits me then, the thought coming out of nowhere. This could be forever.

The idea catches me off guard. I’ve spent so much time convincing myself that I don’t need anyone, that Max and I are fine on our own. But with Liz… she tests every boundary I’ve built.

It’s a day off from school, so after breakfast, Max decides to draw, spreading his crayons and paper out on the living room floor. I head to my office to make a few calls, leaving Liz to her own devices.

When I return a couple of hours later, the house smells like cookies. Max is still in the living room, coloring furiously, while Boomer naps beside him.

In the kitchen, Liz is at the counter, her back to me as she rolls out dough. She’s humming softly, the sound barely audible over the rain still tapping against the windows.

I lean against the doorway, watching her for a moment. She looks so at ease, so completely at home.

“Keeping yourself occupied?” I ask, stepping into the kitchen.

She startles slightly, turning to glare at me. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

---