Page 124 of The Grumpy Billionaire

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” Maria says, and the emphasis is a lot more on the “you don’t know” part than the “lucky” part.

I squeeze his hand. “Of course I know.”

Hugo gives me a darkcan-we-go-now?look that makes me just love him.

“People look to him. They follow him,” Meredith says.

Hugo’s bristling so hard at the praise, it’s a wonder quills of annoyance aren’t shooting from his skin.

Meanwhile, I’m rethinking the wisdom of that Hotel Luxe offer.

“Hey, did you all see that we can bid on a rocket ride to the space station?” I try, hoping to change the subject, and definitely also hoping that it doesn’t seem like I’m directing the comment entirely at Meredith, Sergei, and Maria, though I really would send the three of them off in a rocket if I could.

They ignore my conversational gambit; they’re talking about things that involve divergences and dynamics and other words I don’t know. The rest of the group joins in, and it’s off to the races. People keep asking Hugo questions and trying to get his commentary on things. Sergei even shows him his phone with a photo of a whiteboard on it, and Hugo has annoyed things to say about what went wrong.

Do Hugo’s peers seem to see this gala as a special window of opportunity to get Hugo’s insights? I’m thinking yes.

So rude.

We get herded to a table with the group of them, but I’m determined to make the best of it. I ask Sergei and Maria, who are obviously a couple, how they met. It turns out that they met in Singapore. I ask a lot of questions about that.

Hugo gives me a sly sideways glance. I grin. Yeah, I’m changing the subject like a boss!

“Our first kiss was in Cloud Forest,” Maria says, looking at Sergei. “It’s this gorgeous botanical conservatory. Huge.”

Another couple at the table, Joe and Verna, say their first kiss was in the MIT robotics lab.

People turn to Hugo and me.

“Our first kiss was in my office,” Hugo says.

“Well, but really the music room at my family’s house,” I say. “Remember?”

“But that wasn’t officially our first kiss,” Hugo says.

“It was our first kiss.”

“But not really,” he says.

“It was a kiss. It was between us. And it was first.”

Hugo is wearing his expression of consternation. He is really not agreeing.

“What?” I say to him. Does Hugo reject our wonderful, precious first kiss?

“First kiss is in the lips of the beholder,” Maria jokes.

Somebody points out that there are different kinds of kisses.

Others chime in, because it’s getting weird.

“Sure,” I say. “Different kinds of kisses.” But I loved that kiss. It felt passionate and wild and forbidden. I lived on it for years. It was everything to me, and it’s a part of our journey together, which makes it doubly precious.

And he’d disown it?

I tell myself it’s not a big deal, but it kind of is.

Also, I feel like everybody is thinking that we don’t belong together, and I’m hating that, too.

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