Page 104 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
“I just need some sleep,” she says. “Go on, I’m fine.”
We file out of her room like a little parade of reluctant children, closing the door behind us.
Back downstairs, I follow the others into the kitchen. Everyone’s buzzing about the new deliveries like it’s Christmas morning.
Hazel unfolds the new linen samples across the counter like they’re couture gowns. “Feel this one. Is this Egyptian cotton? Aunt Edie might hoard this.”
“Whoever sent it has excellent taste,” Mom says, eyeing the gourmet coffee blend Ana set on the table. “And deep pockets.My money’s on an anonymous benefactor with a heart of gold and a crush on your aunt.”
Dad snorts. “Edie doesn’t have secret admirers. Or wait, does she?”
Thea holds up a pack of eco-friendly cleaning spray like it’s the Holy Grail. “Maybe it’s from the cleaning gods. A thank-you for keeping the Kettle running.”
Laughter rings out. Everyone throws out more wild guesses—an old guest, a secret investor, the Honeysetts.
But I’m barely listening.
I lean back against the counter, hands wrapped around a mug I don’t remember filling, and I keep going back to one person.
Cal.
It feels like him. The timing. The anonymity. The just-enough thoughtfulness to not take credit, but still make life easier.
But if it is him, why wouldn’t he say anything?
I don’t want to jump to conclusions. I’ve made that mistake before—trusting too fast, assuming too much. But something in my gut says this has his quiet fingerprints all over it.
And if I’m right… I don’t know how to feel.
Grateful? Yes. Touched? Definitely.
But also—conflicted. I don’t want him taking on more than I allow. Finances are a huge deal, and in a relationship that is fairly new like ours, we really have to be careful not to cross lines.
I’m restless throughout the day, especially since I don’t see Cal at all. Ana did say he had gotten back from his walk and hung around a little while for Kettle Hour. I was pretty busy with my mom making sure Aunt Edie was comfortable.
Now, it’s ten p.m. and time for me to go to bed. But instead of me taking the path to my room, I veer down the hallway and stop in front of Cal’s. I hesitate only for a second before I lift my hand and knock.
His door opens almost instantly. He’s barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and there’s that easy smile—the one that makes my breath catch.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.”
“I just got back. Went to check on Aunt Edie. She’s… vibrant, as always. Told me I ask too many questions for someone who didn’t go to med school. I’m just glad she’s okay.”
I laugh softly. “Sounds like her.”
He tilts his head. “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. I just… wanted to say thank you. For everything. For being there. For helping. I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
A beat passes. Then another.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
He doesn’t hesitate this time. He just steps aside and gestures me in. “Always.”
