Page 135 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
“Then I’m coming back,” I tell him. “And I’m staying for as long as it takes her to take me back.”
He laughs. “Just a warning—Margot’s stubborn as heck.”
“So am I,” I say. “More stubborn than she is.”
“Well, then,” Sam says, the smile in his voice unmistakable. “Let’s see who wins.”
Over the next few days, I prepare to travel to Everfield. I book my ticket. I pack light. And I call Jo and Aunt Edie.
Each time I hear their voices, it nearly breaks me.
Their warmth, their care—it’s the kind of thing that creeps into your bones and stays there. They could’ve chosen not to speak to me. They could’ve shut me out the way I probably deserve. But instead, they give me a chance.
And I don’t take that lightly.
Jo talks my ear off about the heatwave and how her tomato jam isn’t setting right, and Edie, in her usual calm, measured voice, tells me she’s keeping the attic apartment ready for me. Just in case. No pressure. Just in case.
I hang up both calls with my throat tight.
Everfield is still there. Just like I left it. Waiting for me with open arms. Except for Margot. But I already have the support of her family, and I’m ready to fight for as long as it takes to win herover. I don’t want to dwell on my worry or fear that she will not listen to me. I focus only on my resolve, strong and unshakable. I will not leave Everfield until Margot forgives me.
MARGOT
It’s Aunt Edie’s birthday today.
I wake up to the smell of cinnamon and the sound of humming downstairs. For a second, I forget the ache. The room feels warmer than usual, like the walls know it’s a special day and are trying to convince me to act like it.
I sit up in bed and try to shake off the fog that’s been sitting heavy on me these past few weeks.
I don’t want to ruin anyone’s fun. Not today. Not when the woman who gave so much of herself and helped raise us with grace and grit is turning another year older. Aunt Edie deserves the world.
So I get up. I brush my hair. I even put on mascara, which feels like a feat. I head downstairs to find the inn looking like something out of a Hallmark movie.
The first thing I admire are the pictures on the wall. The ones I found in the forgotten album in the basement. Despite the slump I’ve been in, I found time to clean and frame them. My momand Aunt Edie had tears in their eyes when they saw it. I do too, whenever I walk past it.
Fairy lights are everywhere. Scented candles burning. A playlist of Edie-approved jazz standards humming low from the Bluetooth speaker. The place is lit up like a Christmas tree in the middle of August, and it somehow works.
Hazel is in the dining room, on a step stool, stringing paper garlands she designed herself. “If this thing falls on my head,” she mutters, “I’m suing the ladder company.”
“Want a hand?” I ask.
She whips her head around. “Margot.”
The excited way she calls my name hits me square in the chest. She hops down and pulls me into a hug.
“You’re up early,” she says gently, studying me. “You okay?”
I nod. “I’m trying.”
Hazel gives a small smile. “Well, Aunt Edie will love seeing you today. And Mom made a cake. Like, an actual multi-layer situation. With lemon curd.”
Of course she did.
I glance around again. Even the teapots on the mantle have fresh daisies tucked inside them. This place—our inn—is breathing again.
I want to be part of it. I want to show up today. Even if my heart still feels like it’s splintering quietly beneath the surface. I take a breath, square my shoulders, and start folding napkins beside Hazel.
Aunt Edie deserves joy.
