Page 89 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

Shivers slide over my skin, my scalp.

He’s standing in the middle of the space now, surrounded by boxes, hair mussed, unsure. Cool, suave Benny is nowhere to be seen. “I wanted you so fucking bad,” he grates out.

My pulse is racing. “All this…”

“I loved you in a hundred crazy flavors that I didn’t have words for! And when you ghosted me…” He flings a hand at the mirrors, the barre. “I told myself this all was about making you sorry. I was young and still reeling, and I thought if I had enough money, if I got fit enough, if I bought a place in the kind of building that you would love to be living in, that the day that you came back asking for the divorce, you’d regret what you did. You’d regret that you couldn’t have me back. But that was just bullshit that I told myself. Feeling angry is so much easier than feeling a broken heart. I never wanted you to be sorry—not really. I just wanted you. I wanted to be the kind of guy you wanted, to help you envision this life we could have together.”

“You made this whole ballet studio.”

“I know. It was…” He throws up his arms as if exasperated. “You never showed. I pretended to myself that I didn’t care, but I was getting worried. I knew you didn’t give a shit about paperwork, but it was extreme even for you.”

He turns around to look at the far wall. The thing that makes this place a true dance studio. Our gazes lock in the mirror. The window behind me blazes with lights and stars and pale clouds sailing across the night sky.

“A year later I looked you up,” he says. “I was surprised that you were living here in New York, just living your life. That’s when it hit me—you weren’t giving us or Vegas a second thought. You probably hadn’t thought about me at all, and there I was building this elaborate nest. What the hell, right? It was a little…”

“Extreme?” I whisper. If he hears the adoration in my voice, he doesn’t show it.

He turns back toward me. “I forced myself to stop thinking about the past altogether. The business was doing great. I focused in on microrobots. I was determined to put the past in the past. I put up the boxes.”

“And then nine years later I show up to ask for a divorce,” I say.

“I’m sorry I jerked you around. I just wanted you, but I pretended to myself…I don’t know.” His tone softens. “Maybe I didn’t want you to leave again. It’s no excuse to force you into this charade, though. Of course your papers will be ready in time.”

I go to him. “This all…was for me?”

“In an entirely bonkers way.”

A smile takes over my face. “How did you know I’d love this building?”

He slides a strand of hair off my shoulder. “How could Inotknow? Look at it! It’s you, it’s how you dance. It’s how you live.”

My heart squeezes. It might be the most beautiful thing anybody’s ever said to me. “I love it,” I say.

“You do?”

“So love it.” I say. “So loveyou.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Three tentative fingers touch my cheek, warming my cheek. He’s studying my eyes like he’s not so sure.

“I so love you,” I say. “How could I not?”

His breath comes out in a whoosh. Hungry lips come over mine. He grips my shoulders, fingers harsh with passion.

I clutch his shirtfront and pull him to me. We’re a mad chaos of kissing and clutching, like all the passion is coming out of us in a rush. Rough lips slide to my ear. “Say it again.”

I cradle his cheeks, breathless as he presses against me. “My husband is so amazing. Most guys would just send roses. How pathetic would that be?”

“Fuck.” He wraps me up in his arms, kissing me like he can’t stop himself. He’s all Benny now. Benny who I’m mad over. “God, Francine,” he says.

I’m pawing off his sports jacket while pressing into him. I don’t know who’s humping who at this point, but it’s the best activity ever. We’re furiously pulling each other’s shirts off and it’s wrong and funny and the most sexy thing ever.

He walks me backwards and flops me onto this stack of weight lifting mats.

“Ungh,” I say, bouncing.

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