Page 111 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
He laughs, low and genuine. “She does. She has that ‘don’t test me’ face.”
“And that’s my mom. Little gremlin version of her. And over here too…” I flip to the page I lingered on before. “Teenage Jo and Sam.”
Cal whistles under his breath. “Wow. Your dad had the hair.”
I laugh. “Didn’t he? He swears he didn’t know how to talk to her back then. But look at that face. He was already in love.”
We keep flipping together, my shoulder pressed lightly against his, our laughter echoing off the quiet basement walls. And for a moment, it feels like time bends—like all those stories and all that love somehow led right here.
“Do you ever think legacy and burden can feel like the same thing?” I ask quietly.
Cal doesn’t answer right away. He’s watching me, thoughtful. Then he nods.
“All the time,” he says finally. “It’s like carrying something precious, but also heavy as a crown.”
I nod, eyes still on the photo. “Sometimes I wonder if I’d even know who I was without this place, without all the expectations tied to it. But other times… I just want to breathe without feeling guilty.”
He shifts closer, his voice softer now. “I don’t want you to carry it all alone.”
I swallow. “Cal…”
“I mean it,” he says softly, finally meeting my gaze. “I want to help you. I want to carry some of it. I want you to breathe, Margot. To relax.”
My chest tightens. The instinct to pull back rises fast.
“I appreciate that,” I say, carefully. “But this is my responsibility. I’ve always taken care of things on my own. I need to be able to stand on my own two feet.”
“I’m not saying you can’t,” he replies. “I know how strong you are. That’s part of why I lo—” He stops himself, swallows. “It’s part of why I admire you.”
I glance down at my hands. “I don’t want to lean on anyone, Cal. Because people let you down. People walk away, or they change. And then what?”
Silence stretches between us for a beat.
Then he says, steady and low, “I’m not people. I’m me. And I need you to trust me, Margot. Not just to like me. I can carry the hard things. The weight.”
I meet his eyes. There’s something raw and true there, something that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe… the weight doesn’t have to crush me. Not if he’s really there.
He doesn’t wait for a response; he simply kisses my forehead and turns our attention back to the album. Hope blossoms in my chest, warm and sweet. A part of me feels ready to take that leap, and the longer this moment lingers, the stronger it gets. It’ll be worth it. I know it.
CAL
Who knew spending time in a dusty basement could be that fun?
It’s already evening by the time we step out into the light. There’s a soft orange glow outside the windows, the kind that makes everything feel like it belongs in a postcard. Margot has the photo album tucked under her arm, one hand brushing at the smudge of dirt on her jeans. She says she wants to clean up some of the pictures and hang them on the wall in the reception area. “Bring a little history into the front room,” she said. I told her it was a great idea, because it was.
Now I need a shower, badly. I can feel the dust clinging to my arms and neck, like a second skin.
I head upstairs to my room, peel off my shirt, and step under the water, letting it run hot. Letting it sink into my muscles. But even with the steam rising around me, all I can think about is her. The way she looked at those old pictures like they were made of glass and memories. The way her voice dipped when she asked if legacy and burden could feel the same.
That question’s still lodged in my chest. Because I knew exactly what she meant.
And when she said she didn’t want to lean on anyone—because people can disappoint you—I knew that too. I’ve disappointed people. Been disappointed. But I can be different with her. I want to be different for her.
I stay under the spray until the heat runs out, then dry off and change into a T-shirt and joggers. I check my phone and there’s a text from Marley waiting for me:
Heads up. A journalist named Raymond from Scoop just contacted PR—says he’s got a lead you’re in Illinois. Possibly Everfield. He’s sniffing around.
My stomach drops.
