Page 66 of Mr. Misunderstood

The corner of his mouth curves up offering a hint of a smile. “It’s still none of my business.”

“True.” I take another sip of beer. “The doctor didn’t find any reason I couldn’t have children.”

“It was his problem?”

I shrug. “Maybe. Or it wasn’t meant to be. Of course, it was one more way I failed to meet his standards, but it wasn’t the only thing that he found fault with. I had one dog and an amazing ability to leave our home a mess. Slowly, I started to see myself as Jason saw me. I liked to eat too much so I never lost that last five pounds that would have made the designer clothes look good on my short frame. He gave me so many suggestions on how to act and what to say when we were out that I felt like a failure before we walked out the door. I stopped talking to people at parties, or really anywhere, because I couldn’t find one reason they would want to spend time with me. His world was defined by dollars and success. I had neither.”

“Kayla.” He reaches across the table and I place my hand in his. The contact offers instant comfort.

“One day, I woke up and realized I hated who I’d become. I wasn’t teaching. I wasn’t doing anything. I was barely living. I’d faded away.” I squeeze his hand. “But you know that part. You knew long before I did. For the entire year before I left, you told me I could come to you anytime and you’d help me.”

“I had the divorce attorney on speed dial. Not because I ever thought that this”—he motions between the two of us—“would happen if you left him. I wanted you to be happy. That pompous jerk didn’t make you happy.”

“Not in the end. But I blame him less and less every day. He was being true to himself. I was the one who refused to stand up and say ‘this is what I need’ or ‘this is what I want.’ I wasn’t comfortable with myself.”

“Because you lived with an ass who always told how he thought you could improve. That is not your fault. Kayla, you need to believe me on that.”

“I do.” I pull my hand free from his. I’m tempted to reach for another take-out bag. He ordered everything I could possibly desire, all of my favorite foods from three different restaurants. Almost as if he wanted to prove that he could give me anything I want.

But three years after my divorce, I know that I need more than a man with perfect abs who respects my love of New York City take-out. Love doesn’t come in a take-out container, or attached to a fancy dress.

“I’m so damn proud of you, Kayla.”

I push the remaining take-out containers away. “I’m pretty impressed with myself too. I remember how unsure I felt towards the end. It seemed crazy to walk away.”

Just like it feels insane to say no to my billionaire best friend when he’s offering to build my dreams from the ground up.

I cross my arms in front of my chest and lean back against the couch. My gaze falls on Ava. The Shepard’s sharp eyes follow my movements as if she senses a shift in my mood. Her body tenses. For a second, I think my hundred-pound dog might walk over and curl up in my lap. But then I feel soft paws on my leg. Ginger, the cat who took my side from the beginning of this wild scheme, climbs onto my thigh.

There aren’t sides to this situation. I’m helping Gavin.

I unfold my arms and run a hand down Ginger’s back. Yes, I’m helping my best friend. And I owe him after he rushed to my aid. But I can’t lose sight of the personal toll. I know the moments when it feels insane to leave probably mean it’s time to go.

“It wasn’t crazy to leave Mr. Mistake,” Gavin says firmly. “Now you have the life you want.”

I look out that window, studying the view of Central Park from Billionaire’s row. It’s beautiful here, but it’s not home. While this scheme might be temporary, what’s happening between us feels frightening real—and terrifyingly isolating.

My friends, the handful I’ve made since my divorce, and my mother believe I’m getting married. I’m alone and falling in love with the one person I always turned to when I needed help.

Gavin can’t navigate through this storm for me. I need to find my own way. I didn’t fight for my independence from my ex for my life to look like this.

“This isn’t the life I want,” I say carefully, turning my gaze away from the window and back to the billionaire across the table.

His expression hardens and his lips press together. Suddenly, he looks every inch the powerful CEO.

“I’ll get you back to the country as soon as this blows over,” he says. “I’ll set up Kayla’s Barn for Abandoned Dogs. I will do everything I can to give you the life you want.”

What about us?

I don’t ask the question out loud. I’m not ready for the heartbreak. Gavin’s life is here, and he won’t walk away from this world. Not after going to all of this trouble to preserve his image.

But we’ve moved beyond best friends. Gavin hit my ex-husband. And as soon as we returned to his apartment, I deb

ated taking him to bed. Jealousy and desire—those feelings aren’t the cornerstones of an enduring friendship.

“I need to head upstate now.” My voice is surprisingly firm. “After today, and all that is happening here … I need to go home.”

His brow furrows. “Because you saw Mr. Mistake?”

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