Page 78 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

There’s a pause. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

We talk for twenty minutes. About Ivy. About the baby. About everything I should’ve said sooner.

Vanessa’s protective as hell. Sharp. But somewhere along the way, she softens. She even laughs a few times. When I ask her if she’ll help me fix this, she sighs.

“She still loves you, you know.”

My throat tightens. “I know. I just hope it’s not too late.”

“She won’t make it easy,” she says. “But I’ll put in a good word. And I’ll help you come up with a plan.”

“Thank you.”

We hang up, and I just sit there, phone still in my hand, heart pounding with something I haven’t let myself feel in months.

Hope.

Maybe I didn’t lose everything. Maybe I still get to build a future with Ivy after all.

And this time, I won’t let her down. But knowing how stubborn the love of my life is, will she even hear me out?

CHAPTER 21

IVY

“What do you think?” I ask Vanessa after getting dressed for the wedding, finally feeling something other than nauseous for the first time in days.

I’ve pulled my hair up, leaving a few soft strands loose. Vanessa insists on curling them, because God forbid I show up with what she calls “grease curls.” She may be an accountant by day, but she’s got a glam team’s worth of talent tucked into her handbag.

“You look beautiful, honey,” she says, already reaching for the curling iron. “Let me just recurl those swirls you call curls and we’ll be good to go.”

I knew it.

“You know, Vanessa, you don’t look so bad yourself,” I say, genuinely impressed. Her long legs make that ruffled dress look custom-made, and her curls are pinned in an elegant updo.

“Ooh, I love your heels,” I add, catching sight of her glassy, Cinderella-style slippers.

“Thanks, love. And I brought you these,” she says, handing me a pair of dressy wedges.

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” I ask, but the answer hits me before the sentence finishes.

They’re hideous. Functional, yes, but not exactly wedding-worthy. I chose them because I didn’t want to risk needing to sprint to the bathroom in heels, but in hindsight… yeah. Mistake.

I take the wedges with a sigh. She helps me buckle them on.

“You know what would look perfect with your dress?” I say, dashing to my bedroom. “My blue bracelet—the one from our cruise.”

I come back and clasp it around her wrist.

“Yes, this is perfect,” she says, admiring it.

Once we’re ready, we head outside—and see a driver waiting for us.

“Oooh, fancy,” I say, turning toward her.

“Girl, just get in. I have to grab my purse from my car. It’s parked out front,” she calls, already jogging away before I can reply.

I reach for the car door handle—only for a strong arm to extend from the back seat.

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