Page 21 of Rescued By My Small Town Billionaire

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind—fires, threats, fake dating that doesn’t feel so fake anymore. And now, standing here, I finally allow myself to admit the truth.

I have feelings for Mike. Real ones.

It’s terrifying, but it’s also freeing.

I’ve spent so long letting my past dictate my future. Paul made me doubt myself, made me feel like I was lucky to have any love at all. But love—real love—shouldn’t feel like an obligation. It shouldn’t feel like something that traps you.

It should feel like this. Safe. Steady. Like the way Mike looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

A slow breath fills my lungs, and I straighten my shoulders. This fear, this doubt—I’m done with it. I refuse to let Paul or my past have any more control over me.

I’m choosing me.

I’m choosing the way I feel when I’m around Mike.

Sitting cross-legged on the couch in the ranch living room, B. is curled up in my lap. She’s been my little shadow since she found her way back to me, always listening as if she understands more than she lets on.

“Okay, B.,” I say, scratching behind her ears. “I need to practice something, and you’re the best listener I know.”

B. blinks up at me, completely invested in what I’m about to say.

I take a deep breath. “I like Mike,” I admit. “Like, really like him. More than I should, more than I ever expected.”

The words tumble out easier than I thought they would, as if they’d been waiting to be spoken.

“I know we started this whole thing as a lie, but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling fake. And now I don’t know how to tell him the truth without ruining everything.”

B. lets out a tiny chirp, nudging her head against my hand.

“Yeah, I know. I should just tell him. But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” I sigh, rubbing my forehead.

B. meows again, as if telling me that’s a ridiculous question.

I laugh softly, running my fingers through her fur. “You’re right. He does feel something. I see it in the way he looks at me, the way he touches me like he’s afraid I might disappear. But I don’t know if it’s enough.”

B. lets out a long purr, curling deeper into my lap as if to say,Just do it already.

“Fine,” I whisper. “I’ll think about it.”

***

The girls help me move back into my newly renovated apartment above the florist shop. It’s even better than before—brighter, cozier, filled with love from all the hands that helped restore it.

Ellie flops onto my couch, stretching her arms behind her head. “I have to say, Becky, this place is stunning. If I weren’t completely settled in my own house, I’d move in myself.”

Maggie Ann walks in with a tray of homemade pastries, placing them on the coffee table. “It smells like fresh paint and possibility.”

Lulu grins as she pops open a bottle of sparkling cider. “And new beginnings,” she adds, raising her glass.

Josie kicks off her shoes and sits cross-legged on the floor, stealing a cookie from the tray. “Honestly, I’m just glad we have an excuse for a sleepover. It’s been way too long since we had a good old-fashioned pajama party.”

We all laugh, settling into our usual rhythm, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like me again.

The night is filled with laughter, reminiscing about the chaos of the renovation. We talk about the fire, about Mike being overprotective, about the rumors swirling around town that our fake relationship is too convincing.

“Speaking of which, when are you going to admit you actually like the man?” Ellie asks with a huge grin on her face.

“Excuse me?” I nearly choke on my cider.

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