Page 88 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
He looks around the room. The lamps are low, the covers still messy from when I was trying—and failing—to sleep. I cross my arms and tuck my hand under my elbow, suddenly aware of how intimate this feels.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he says.
“Me neither,” I admit, softer than I mean to.
We stare at each other for a long moment. Then he runs a hand through his hair again and barks a short laugh.
“I’m sorry, I just, um…” He licks his bottom lip. “Um, thank you for dancing with me.”
I smile instinctively. “I-I loved it.”
He smiles back. “Margot, I know I should probably leave tomorrow. That was always the plan. My three weeks are up.”
My heart drops.
“But…” He looks at me then, really looks at me. “I want to stay. A few more weeks.”
My throat tightens. I keep my voice even. “Why?”
He hesitates. Breathes in. Lets it out slowly. “Because I like you, Margot.”
He says it so simply, like it’s the most natural truth in the world. Like it hasn’t just cracked something open in me.
“I like you a lot,” he continues, softer now. “And I want to stay and… figure this out. See what this could be. But I need you to be honest with me about how you feel.” His eyes are serious now, searching. “If you don’t feel the same, I’ll go. I’ll walk away. No questions asked.”
I stare at him.
My hands are still folded, fingers clenched so tight they’ve gone cold. I’m scared. I’m thrilled. I’m happy. I’m scared!
Cal looks like he wants to disappear, but he chooses bravery and meets my eyes. “I’m sorry, Margot, I struggled with saying anything, but I can’t hold it in anymore. I like you. I… like you.”
“I shouldn’t feel the same,” I whisper.
“But do you?”
My breath catches. I look away, but not before he sees it—whatever emotion just crossed my face.
“I shouldn’t,” I repeat, weaker this time.
“But you do,” he says, and there’s a thread of hope running through it, quiet and warm.
I lift my eyes to his. “I think about you when I shouldn’t. I look for you when I don’t mean to. I danced with you twice and wanted a third time. So yes, Cal. I do.”
He exhales, long and deep, like he’s been holding that breath for days.
The space between us shrinks, not from movement but from the heaviness of everything that’s finally been said. For a moment, neither of us says anything. Like we’re afraid we will shatter the moment.
Cal takes a step closer, and his voice is low when he says, “Thank you. For saying that. For not pushing me away.”
I can’t look away from him.
He adds, “I meant what I said, Margot. I want to prove it to you—that you don’t have to carry everything alone.”
My chest tightens.
Nobody has ever said that to me. Not like that. Not with that kind of quiet conviction.
He lifts a hand, hesitating just slightly before brushing a knuckle down my cheek. “You’ve been holding up the world on your own. Let someone hold you for once.”
