Page 139 of The Grumpy Billionaire

“Hugo!” She pulls away. “What was that?”

“I’m embracing imperfection.”

“By blowing an important presentation in the most outrageous way possible? I don’t think that’s what people mean when they say to embrace imperfection.”

I slide my thumb over the cool silk of her cheek. “I’m new at it. I might not have it right yet.”

“Be serious, Hugo! This is your job! Should you maybe—I don’t know, go back there and fix things or something?”

“No—this is what’s important,” I say. “Us.”

She takes my hand. The look in her eyes is everything.

We get off on the first floor, blow past security, and race outside, breathlessly making our way down the crowded sidewalk toward the East River. Seagulls screech overhead as we near the seaport; the whipping wind smells like saltwater.

I give her my jacket to wear.

“I need you to know that you were right in everything you’ve been saying to me,” I tell her as we get clear of the crowds. “I was enforcing impossible standards of perfection for everybody and everything.”

“Hugo—” There’s amazement in her voice. She links her arm in mine. “Just…wow.”

“It’s true. I was creating these ridiculous standards in every area of my life. So…I got this book on perfectionism.”

“You went out and bought self-help books? You?”

“Yeah. And I started reading it, and it’s given me a torrent of new insights.”

“I never expected you would just…take what I said to heart.”

“How could I not take it to heart? I was hurting myself. I was hurting us. This thing is important to me.”

We stop by a railing in front of one of the historic ships. “So it was good? This book?”

“I’ve read multiple books on the subject at this point. All the classics, all the cutting-edge ones.”

She grins. “Of course.”

“Not that I’m planning on being perfectionistic about it. Or at least I’ll try not to. I need you to know, I’d never look at you like I looked at that orb—never. I know you, and I love you and every one of your lost shoes.”

“You love my lost shoes? Are you the one who takes them?”

I smile at that. “Those lost shoes are all you, Sparky.”

She does an indignant frown.

I adjust the jacket lapels to better shield her from the wind. “You were right in that I was enforcing ridiculous standards on this relationship we’ve built. I was limiting the amazing-ness of us, trying to fit our experiences into an ideal. Our first kiss in the music room? It was wrong and unexpected, but it was ours. Fucking in the elevator? Ours. We’re a team, forging this new path all our own.”

“A team,” she whispers.

“I need to be done with shaving the edges off of squares so that they fit into circles and vice versa. Maybe not in math, but everywhere else? I’m done. And no more things like flow charts that describe kids flopping on couches. It’s reductionist. It’s small.”

She looks amazed.

“I can’t say I’m cured,” I confess. “Will it distract me to see you walking around with one shoe untied? Maybe.”

She makes a fake surprised face.

I lower my voice. “But am I gonna get down on my knees and tie that shoe? And then sink my fingers into your sexy hips and eat your unbelievably delicious pussy on the way back up? Maybe.”

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