Page 47 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
The air stills.
Even Aunt Edie sets her cup down too quietly.
I feel it immediately. That tight squeeze in the middle of my chest.
Her tone wasn’t cruel, just sharp enough to draw a line in the sand.
I shouldn’t care. I’m a stranger in her world, passing through. I have no right to expect anything.
And yet—I do.
Because for the first time in years, I felt something shifting. Like maybe I’d found a place where I didn’t have to wear the whole CEO mask. Like maybe this town, this inn, this woman, could be something more than temporary.
I let my guard down. That’s on me.
The hurt is real, but I smile anyway, because that’s what I do. “No worries. I appreciate the invite. Really.”
I stand and pat Sam’s shoulder lightly. “I think I’ll step out for a bit of air. Thanks for the company.”
No one says anything as I walk away.
MARGOT
I’m in the kitchen, elbow-deep in receipts, with a notebook open in front of me and a pen tapping against my chin. I’m supposed to be writing a financial to-do list—something I’ve been meaning to do for weeks now—but the numbers blur before I can organize a single thought.
All I can think about is Cal.
Not just the moment earlier, but the way he looked at me when I said he was “just a guest.” Like I’d built a wall and slammed the gate shut in his face. The worst part? I didn’t even mean to. Not like that.
It’s been over an hour since then.
Kettle Hour is done, the crumbs swept up, the teacups washed. Most of the guests have wandered off to their rooms or curled up in the den with books. The house has quieted into that low hum of nighttime peace.
But Cal still hasn’t come back inside.
I let out a slow breath and try to focus. I scribble the word utilities on the notepad, but even that looks wrong. I stare at it like it’s in another language.
The truth is—I messed up.
And what’s worse is that everyone knew it. Dad stopped talking. Aunt Edie just gave me that look. Even Mom didn’t defend me. They all quietly dispersed like I’d said something unforgivable.
But did I?
I wasn’t wrong, was I? He’s a guest. Why did everyone just accept him like that? He isn’t the first male guest we’ve hosted at the inn, so why is it different with him?
I pull the notebook back toward me and force myself to focus.
Financial To-Do List
Utility bills (due by the 3rd)
Supply run for guest rooms (Maya said Room 4’s towels are thinning)
