Page 136 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
Thea—surprisingly— is in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, manning the waffle iron like her life depends on it. Every few minutes, I hear a triumphant ding followed by the scrape of a spatula and a proud, “Next!”
Waffles is causing absolute mayhem. He’s darting between people’s legs, trailing a pink ribbon someone tied around his neck, and trying to snag one of Thea’s golden-brown masterpieces off the counter.
“Waffles, no!” Mom shrieks, lunging forward just in time to stop a clean theft. “That one’s for the guests!”
He barks, as if to say,I am also a guest, then bolts toward the parlor, tail wagging like he’s just pulled off a heist.
Some of the guests staying at the inn are already up and helping. Mr. Honeysett is arranging flowers into mason jars—his idea—and telling everyone within earshot that he used to do stage design for Broadway. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t even care. The jars look amazing.
Clara and Imani are hanging streamers across the hallway and arguing about whether Edie would prefer peonies or sunflowers. Aunt Edie will prefer neither, but who cares?
Mom is also in the kitchen with Thea, insisting on making her “famous” hot pepper deviled eggs even though nobody asked her to. She’s wearing an apron that saysThank the Cookand singing Stevie Wonder off-key.
I pause in the living room and just… take it in.
This house. These people. This messy, warm, wonderful life.
I’ve spent so long trying to hold everything together that I forgot what it feels like to let myself be held by it. The weight in my chest doesn’t vanish, but it loosens—just a bit. Enough for me to smile as Hazel tosses me a roll of ribbon.
Nobody questions why I’ve been AWOL. They just hand me a cup of coffee, ask me to tie ribbons, and tell me to move faster. Somehow, it’s exactly what I need. I’m starting to smile.
Then, suddenly, the room erupts into applause.
I turn toward the stairs, confused at first—until I see her.
Aunt Edie is standing halfway down the staircase in her housecoat and slippers, one hand on the railing, the other pressed to her heart like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.
Her eyes are wide and shiny. Her mouth opens in that breathy little laugh of hers, the one that always makes me tear up.
She’s completely stunned.
And then everyone—family, guests, Waffles included—launches into a chaotic, loud, and terribly off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
Somebody hits the wrong key. Mom is two full lines ahead of everyone else. Amee and Darryl are harmonizing like they’re auditioning for “The Voice.”
But it’s perfect.
It’s chaotic and beautiful and hers.
And as I watch Aunt Edie wipe a tear from her cheek and laugh at the madness, I feel something in me crack open again. Not in a bad way. In the way spring splits winter apart.
I didn’t realize how much I missed this.
“Happy birthday, Aunt Edie!”
Aunt Edie clasps her hands to her chest and laughs through happy tears. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says, looking around at the room full of love. Then she adds, with a sly twinkle in her eye, “And happy birthday to you too,” making everyone burst out laughing.
Mom throws her hands up like of course Edie would turn her own birthday into someone else’s party too. Hazel shakes her head and mutters something. Even the guests join in on the laughter, and Waffles lets out a celebratory bark before pouncing on a balloon and popping it with a triumphant tail wag.
People start moving again—topping off drinks, lighting candles, adjusting flowers, bickering about cake placement. I start to tie a ribbon around the last stack of napkins, back to blending in, heart settling.
Then I feel a familiar presence behind me. I look up just as my mom’s hand lands gently on my shoulder.
“Come with me, Margot.”
I glance around, heart thudding suddenly for reasons I can’t name. Hazel shrugs as if to say she doesn’t know what this is about. Mom is already walking away. So I drop the ribbon and follow.
Mom leads me quietly through the side door and into the garden, where the fairy lights Aunt Edie insisted on last summer are still strung along the fence, softly glowing. The sounds of the party fade behind us, replaced by the hum of crickets and the distant giggle of Hazel chasing Waffles inside.
