Page 53 of The Hollywood Billionaire's Fangirl Wife

Valerian:So Jack...how’s Krista doing?

Jack:That’s irrelevant to current operations.

Guy:Actually, I'm rather certain Valerian's only asking because he wants you to stop calling his wife 'darling' Poppy.

Valerian:Partly true. But I also want to hear Jack admit it.

Jack:There's nothing to admit.

Wynd:Star saw you two at the coffee shop yesterday.

Jack:We were discussing script accuracy. Professional consultation.

Valerian:Right. Is that what we’re calling it now?

Jack:The banking scenes needed technical review.

Guy:For two hours? Over lattes?

Jack:Efficiency requires adequate caffeine intake.

Wynd:And adequate staring into her eyes, apparently.

Jack:I don’t stare. I observe data points.

Valerian:What’s the probability you’ll ask her out?

Jack:31.7%.

Guy:Coming from Jack, that's as good as a marriage proposal.

THANK YOU.

Guy stood in the driveway, leaning against his car, the Texas evening air warm against his skin as he looked up at the ranch house that had become more than just a home.

Two months ago, he had been drowning in this very spot, convinced that he had lost everything that mattered.

Now it felt like his heart was about to explode from sheer gratitude.

Thank You for giving me back my family.

The weight of the day settled around him like a blessing he was still learning to accept. He felt like he could fly if God willed it, felt like every breath was a gift he’d never taken for granted before that night with Emmanuel and the emergency vet waiting room where he’d finally learned to pray.

Thank You for being my home.

Thank you.

He looked back on his day as he headed toward the front door. Krista had everyone grinning on set today, with how she had been caught readingThe 411 on Asperger's for Not So Stupid People,and of course it was something he and the other guys had good-naturedly ribbed Jack about during Bible study.

Honestly, if someone had told him he would one day be attending Bible studies, and with Jack Morrison, too, of all people...

Just went to show how God worked in mysterious ways, and speaking of more mysterious things...

“This is the best thing ever!”

Guy paused in the doorway, car keys still in his hand, as the sound of his wife’s delighted squealing reached him from the living room.

The familiar chaos of their evening routine was in full swing: Mack sprawled across the entire couch like he owned it, Mounty curled up with his tennis ball, Middle positioned on the coffee table where he could see the TV, and Emmanuel tucked into his favorite spot on the cushions.

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