Page 126 of The Grumpy Billionaire

“But then at some point you knew it was me. And I knew it was you. And that’s why it was special, because we’d found our way to each other.”

“And you were grossly underage,” I remind her.

“Youwere underage, too!” she says. “It doesn’t count if both people are underage.”

“In some states it does. Anyway, you were also drinking at the time. Possibly drunk.”

“Hardly,” she bites out.

“Everything about that kiss was wrong,” I say.

“But I loved that kiss. It was precious to me. You realized it was me at some point, and I realized it was you, and remember how awesome it was? It was this sense that we’d found each other across the desert for one stolen moment in time. And the way you held me, like you couldn’t bear to ever let me go.”

“But it wasn’t the two of us deciding to kiss each other out of a feeling of mutual attraction.”

“So?” she says. “I suppose you’re going to say the elevator wasn’t our first time making love.”

“It depends on how you define the phrase ‘making love.’”

“Oh my god. Seriously?”

“The elevator—it wasn’t deliberate so much as a failure of control. We could’ve been a couple of ferrets.”

The moment it’s out of my mouth, I can see it was a mistake.

“Ferrets?” she says.

“Maybe not ferrets—”

“Us in the elevator was the best ever. It was one of the peak moments of my existence.”

“This is an argument of semantics,” I say.

“No it’s not! We had that mistaken-identity kiss, we fucked in an elevator. That was our journey as a couple, and it’s not good enough for you?”

“It’s not aboutgood enough,” I say.

“What if we had a kid and their first step was in a pile of shit—would you reject that too?”

“Of course not. I would love anything a kid of ours does,” I say, stunned we’re talking about kids, but I’d go there with her. “I’m defining terms, that’s all.”

“How long until you’re wishing I was different, just like your torus orb? You thought your data model was okay, and Brenda says it’s brilliant, but now you think it’s a piece of shit? Why, Hugo? Because it doesn’t reach your perfect ideal? And what about me? How long until you start seeing flaws you can’t unsee?You’ll start tearing me down—you won’t be able to help it.”

“Don’t make me pay for the sins of another man, Stella. I would never want you to change, or to change you.”

“But it’s already happening! What we have built together already isn’t measuring up. This is the messy, imperfect history that we’ve created together, and you’re editing it to fit some perfect ideal. And someday you’ll look at me that way, too.”

“No—I love our history,” I say. “I love you.”

“But you’re already changing things, don’t you see?” She wraps her arms around herself, looking so hopeless. “It scares me. I can’t help it. It’s so déjà vu.”

My blood goes cold. Is she leaving me? “Stella, no—I love us, and I love you,” I say simply. “I love you exactly the way you are. I know I can have exacting standards, and it’s something I probably need to work on.”

“I’m not going to leap into a relationship with you only on the condition that you work on something. That’s not fair to you or to me, and it’s just a rule.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know. I want to take the time to look before I leap. The way I’ve been feeling, I think this relationship is worth the leap no matter what. The love I feel outweighs the rest. But I want to take the time to overtly decide to leap instead of just falling into it. I want to stand up and get right in your face and tell you it’s worth the leap no matter what.”

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