Page 117 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
I nod once, and he takes the cue, offering a quick “Enjoy your meal” before turning and walking out.
As soon as he’s gone, Hazel leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Well, well. Look at you, Miss Media Magnet.”
I groan and reach for my fork. “Don’t even start.”
We have no more interruptions after that—just good food, easy laughter, and that soft, comforting energy that only happens when it’s just the three of us. The meal is wonderful, warm and filling, and we talk about everything: art, tech, books, family, the inn, our childhood.
Somewhere between dessert and the bill, the conversation drifts to Cal, and I tell my sisters the truth.
“I like Cal,” I say quietly. “A lot. And… I trust him.”
The words hang there for a beat. Then?—
Hazel lets out a squeal so loud that the couple at the next table turns to look.
Thea clutches her chest like she’s just been handed breaking news. “Oh my gosh.”
“I knew it!” Hazel crows, smacking the table. “I knew there was something in the air!”
I’m blushing, hard. “You two are embarrassing.”
“We’re supportive,” Hazel corrects. “Loudly supportive.”
We settle the bill and leave the café around eight. Hazel hugs us both outside the café, her apartment just a few blocks down.
“Text me when you get home,” she says, then turns to Thea. “And you—don’t return to the basement.”
Thea rolls her eyes but hugs her tight. I watch them, my heart full.
Then Thea and I head to the car, still laughing as we unlock the doors and climb in. We joke all the way home, teasing each other like we’re teenagers again. By the time we pull into the drive, Thea is already yawning. She doesn’t bother coming in—just waves sleepily and veers off toward her side of the house.
I step inside the inn and it’s quiet, but there’s a warm glow coming from the kitchen.
Cal’s there, leaning against the counter, a mug of tea in hand. He looks up when I walk in and smiles. That slow, easy smile that gets me every time. He looks so ridiculously handsome I could cry.
“Did you have a good time with your sisters?” he asks.
“I did.” I grin back, setting my keys in the bowl by the door. Something about him standing there—calm, steady, here—makes me want to throw my arms around him and never let go.
“Why are you here sipping tea alone?”
He sets the mug down and straightens, walking over until he’s standing right in front of me. His eyes are soft, but there’s something intense in them too—something that makes my stomach flip.
“I was waiting for you.”
My heart stutters. “Why?”
He takes my hand, fingers warm against mine, and his voice is just above a whisper.
“Margot Hartwell, will you go out on a date with me tomorrow?”
CAL
It’s evening and the engine’s already running, low and steady. Around us, the evening air is setting in, making everything feel quieter. Softer. It’s almost six. Margot said she’d meet me out here by six.
I check my watch, not because I’m impatient, but because I’ve been looking forward to this all day.
I hear a soft throat-clear behind me. I turn, and there she is.
