Page 129 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire
Frankie’s gaze dances over my face as I continue talking. “But I totally get that you might not be able to see a way past that. I truly do. If you’d prefer to sell to Skinner, go ahead. I don’t even care anymore about getting him back for what he did. All I care about is getting a chance with you.”
She wets her lips. “What about him shutting us down for not having the right permits or licenses or whatever?”
“You haven’t met my lawyers yet, have you?”
And there’s the full smile I’ve been waiting for. The one that makes my heart feel like it’s full of sunshine,rainbows, fluffy clouds and lollipops. Like nothing bad could ever happen in the world. And like I’ve found the perfect fit for my imperfect soul.
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw that you’re renovating the old arts barn.” She swallows hard. “And naming it after Grandma.”
“Maybe I’m not all bad.” I shrug. “I might have come here under a false name, but it turned out that that fake person was actually the real me.”
“It’s this place.” She looks around the large barn. “It makes me feel like the real me too.”
“I want to be like Waldo,” I tell her.
There’s a clap behind me and someone says, “Oh, that’s a very good one.” It’s the woman in the walker again.
There’s a quiethuh?from the rest of the room.
I turn to them to explain. “He’s the big white donkey in the main field. He was a troubled foal. But Frankie opened her heart to him, won him over, made him a better donkey, and now he’s totally devoted to her and virtually does a dance every time he sees her.”
There are smiles everywhere now.
I return my attention to Frankie. “That’s what happens to my heart every time I see you. It does this weird Waldo dance and races toward you.”
Pink blossoms in Frankie’s cheeks and she shakes her head like she could not be more embarrassed, but also couldn’t be happier.
“Will you let me be your Waldo?”
And the room fills with a mixture of sighs, gasps andaws.
Frankie’s teeth dig into her bottom lipand her hands shift under mine, weaving our fingers together. That has to be a good sign. It has to be.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her eyes are brimming now. “I mean, I?—”
“Oh, hug the man and tell him you love him.” The words from Mrs. Pink Hat spark murmurs of amused agreement around the room.
But most important of all, also from the woman whose hands I’m clutching as close to my heart as I can get them.
I brush the adorable stray hair from her face and hook it behind her ear. “I love you, Frankie Channing.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” She slides her hands from mine and wraps them around my neck. “I love you too. Because you areyou. No matter what your name is.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
FRANKIE
Miller smells different. Not totally different. The deep-down scent of his skin, the aroma ofhim, is still the same. But I’d only ever known it combined with a hint of my lavender-and-vanilla body wash before. Now his top notes are more musky, with a sprinkle of citrus. It’s like inhaling a new version of him, with the original him still underneath.
A cocoon of affectionate sighs from the people staying to catch the final act of this unexpected show wraps around us.
In the four days since I made Miller leave, I’ve checked over my shoulder a thousand times, thinking—hoping, I guess—that he’d show up.
But I never thought he would.
I mean, why would he, after I virtually told him I hated him?
And I sure as hell wasn’t going to chase after him after everything he’d done.
