Page 32 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

I nod. Sip. “It’s perfect.”

Silence stretches. But it’s not peaceful. It’s buzzing—charged with everything that wasn’t said last night.

Carter breaks it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

I look up from my plate. “Nope.”

“I didn’t want to push you.”

“You didn’t.”

He waits. Patient. Steady. That should make this easier.

It doesn’t.

I pick at my eggs and force a smile. “Last night was… a lot.”

He nods. “It was.”

I don’t explain. And he doesn’t ask.

It’s a truce made of unfinished sentences and burning glances.

His voice is low when he says, “You left for bed last night like you were running from something.” He steps closer to me and softly holds my chin up so I’m looking right into his freaking gorgeous bluish-green eyes.

I should tell him.

Right now. Just say it: I heard you on the phone. I know you told someone you love them. I know you’re not mine.

But the words stick in my throat like glass.

Because what if I’m wrong?

It was early, I was sleepy. Maybe I misheard? Now I’m just lying to myself. I know what I heard.

He’s still watching me. Not with suspicion, but with concern—gentle, quiet concern that makes my chest ache.

“Ivy,” he says, softer now, “if there’s something you’re not saying… you can.”

My pulse jumps.

“I’m okay,” I lie, forcing a smile. “I just… overthink everything. It’s a gift and a curse.”

He chuckles under his breath, but he doesn’t let me off the hook.

His fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to lean into that simple touch.

“You don’t have to fake it with me,” he says. “You don’t have to be fine.”

God.

Why does he have to say the right things?

Why does he have to look at me like I’m not just another woman passing through, like I’m worth unraveling slowly?

I swallow, blinking fast. “I just needed a little space.”

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