Page 20 of Falling for the Wrong Billionaire
I don’t tell her that I’ve finished. I don’t tell Emma either. I can’t bring myself to. Maybe I’m afraid of the finality, of it all being over. Maybe I’m afraid of walking away from the excuse that brought me here every day. Every time I come to the clinic, it feels like I’m one step closer to seeing her, to hearing her laugh, to feeling that warmth in my chest that I can’t seem to shake.
I’d thought I’d be relieved once the project was done, that I could finally move on. But no, I find myself walking past theclinic a few times after hours, looking for any reason to pop in. I make up reasons, from checking the systems to double-checking details. But the truth is, I just want to see her again.
I bring over the digital check-in system for the pets — something she mentioned in passing a few weeks ago, an idea she didn’t even think twice about, but it stuck with me. I remember how passionate she was about it, how practical she was. It felt... right. Like she understood what this place needed in a way that no one else did.
I place the small tablet on the counter, set to the side, ready for installation. I’m about to leave, my fingers brushing the door handle, when I see them.
Emma and Bryan walk in together, the door chimes ringing softly as they step inside. They’re in the middle of a conversation, and I don’t want to interrupt, but it’s impossible to ignore how the atmosphere shifts.
I turn to say goodbye to Lucy, who’s been standing by the desk, absorbed in organizing some paperwork. The words come out of me without thought, a simple “Take care,” but as I say them, I linger. Her smile is soft but warm, and I can’t seem to pull myself away.
"Thanks for everything," she says quietly, and I feel the weight of her words, even if they’re simple.
“Of course,” I reply, and for a moment, we just look at each other. There’s a pull between us, unspoken but undeniable. I know it, and I can see it in her eyes too — the same hesitation, the same longing. We both want to say something more, but neither of us dares to break the moment.
I turn to leave, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s not enough. That it’s never enough.
But before I can reach the door, I hear Emma’s voice, casual, but with a certain softness to it. “Liam, hang on,” she says, andI pause, turning back. “Bryan and I were just about to head out. How about joining us for dinner tomorrow? It’s been a while.”
I hesitate, the invitation feeling heavier than it should. I glance at Lucy briefly, her back now turned as she moves to organize more files. It feels like the moment has passed. But then, I catch Emma’s eyes, the understanding in her expression, and I realize I’m not just being invited to dinner — I’m being invited into something more.
I force a smile. “Sure. Sounds good.”
Bryan walks over, clapping me on the back. “Great. I’ll be looking forward to it.” He pauses for a beat, looking between me and Lucy before continuing, “You’re different with her, you know.”
My heart skips a beat at the comment. I look up at him, trying to play it off, but I know the truth in his words. I know what he’s saying. I’ve been acting differently lately, and it’s not just the work. It’s Lucy. It’s always been her.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, my voice casual, but the words feel forced.
Bryan gives me a look, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glances toward Lucy, then back at me. “You know exactly what I mean,” he says, his tone light but knowing. “Don’t overthink it.”
I don’t say anything, just nod in agreement. It’s easier that way.
Bryan and Emma leave together, their voices fading as they make their way down the hall. The sound of the door closing behind them feels final, and I’m left standing there, the clinic suddenly too quiet.
I walk out of the clinic and head toward my car, my mind still racing. The feeling of being so close to Lucy, of seeing her again, of hearing her laugh — it all lingers in my mind. It feels like something I can’t quite grasp, something just beyond my reach.
That night, I drive to the beach cliffs. Ialways come here when I need to think, when I need to clear my mind. The salty air hits my face as I step out of the car, the waves crashing against the rocks below. It’s always been a place of peace for me, a place where I could think and breathe.
But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, the quiet is too loud. The silence echoes in my ears as I walk toward the edge of the cliff, my hands buried deep in my jacket pockets.
I stand there for a long while, the horizon stretching endlessly before me, the fading light of day casting long shadows.
My mother’s voice echoes in my mind. “Liam, do you ever want more than just this life of work?”
It’s a question she asked me years ago, a question I never had an answer for back then. I was so focused on my work, on my empire, on everything that was tangible, everything I could control. But now, standing here, I realize how much I’ve been missing. How much I’ve been avoiding.
More than just building things.
It’s a thought that haunts me. And now, for the first time, I realize that what I’ve been building — the company, the fortune, the success — it doesn’t feel like enough anymore.
I can’t stop thinking about Lucy. About her quiet strength, the way she carries herself, the way she makes me feel. But I also know that the life I’ve built doesn’t leave room for this. For her.
I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath of the sea air, trying to center myself. But I can’t. I can’t stop the longing in my chest, the yearning for something I can’t have.
And it hits me.
I’m not just building things anymore. I’m building walls around myself, walls I’ve spent years constructing to protect myself from exactly what I feel right now.
