Page 65 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
It’s been over an hour since Cal left with Glen, and I’ve been holed up in the office doing a whole lot of nothing. Mostly just texting Juniper—who’s pretending to study—and Mia, who’s begging for pictures of Everfield in the fall. I send her one of the inn’s front porch with the pumpkins lined up and a little too much pride in my chest.
Eventually, I stretch, roll my neck, and push back from the desk. I need movement. Air. Something.
As I wander down the hall, I hear laughter drifting from the kitchen—light, easy, familiar. I follow the sound and peek in to find Mom and Aunt Edie at the table, sipping tea and snacking on a plate of sliced pears and apples.
“Is there any tea left for me?” I ask, stepping into the room.
Mom grins and waves me in. “Sit down. I’ll get you a cup.”
I drop into the chair beside Aunt Edie and sigh as Mom sets the tea in front of me. I cradle it between my palms, inhale the soft minty steam, and sip. Warmth spreads down my throat and settles in my chest.
We talk about nothing for a while—Hazel’s latest mural in town, Thea’s sudden interest in smart thermostats, and how Mom can’t seem to stop overcooking the new pumpkin scones.
But my mind keeps drifting back to yesterday’s donation. I haven’t touched it. Haven’t even told anyone. It sits in the company account like a secret blessing, and something about it makes me nervous to speak it aloud—like if I name it, it’ll vanish.
Then Aunt Edie leans forward and asks casually, “So… what do you really think about Cal?”
I pause, my cup halfway to my lips.
There it is. The question I’ve been dodging for weeks.
Usually, I’d brush it off with a laugh or a quip. But this time, I don’t. I set the cup down slowly and think—really think.
Something about the way he brushed me off yesterday doesn’t sit right with me. I’ve been trying not to overthink it, but there were shadows in his eyes—as if he was hiding something.
I know he has a right to keep his personal life private, but he’s been all over mine—my family, my kitchen, my business. But he wants to keep his a secret. My stomach churns.
“Margot?” Mom gently prods.
“I think he’s a great guy,” I answer honestly, sipping my tea again, but this time I don’t taste it.
“But?” Aunt Edie’s brows quirk.
“Sometimes,” I say finally, “it feels like I know him. Like he’s familiar. Easy. Like we’ve done this before. But then other times, it’s like he’s a complete stranger. Quiet. Guarded. Like I’m onlyseeing the surface and there’s a whole part of him I’m not being allowed into.”
They both go quiet.
And I don’t mean to say more, but the words keep coming. I don’t want them to have an unfair impression of him.
“But even with that… he’s a really great guy. Super helpful, too.”
Mom and Aunt Edie exchange one of their telepathic glances that makes me feel both loved and ganged up on. I realize they’re about to diagnose me with something sappy and romantic, so I quickly change the topic to something far more interesting.
“I have something else to tell you,” I say dramatically.
Aunt Edie perks up. “Do I need another cup of tea for this?”
“It’s not bad,” I say, smiling now. “Actually, it’s kind of… unbelievable.”
They both lean in instinctively.
“Yesterday,” I begin, “I checked the inn’s email. There was a credit alert.”
Mom blinks. “From a guest?”
“No. That’s the thing. It was anonymous. I tried to trace the little info on the account and it led to a dead end. A large donation. With a note that said, ‘Anonymous contribution to the beautiful job you’re doing with the inn. The Key & Kettle is lucky to have you.’”
Their jaws drop at the same time.
