Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(99)

“Thanks,” I say to Becca.

“Of course. Anytime.” She gnaws on her lower lip while I head over to kiss Remy. “Did you really go to lunch?”

“Yep.” Yesterday. To plot out today after we got intel on where Roderick was hiding.

“You just seem…different. Not…like you just got back from lunch.”

“Never know when a lunch is going to change your life.” I pull Remy out of his travel swing. He fusses and yawns, but he and I have somewhere to be.

“You’re really good with him.”

“He makes it easy. Thanks again for watching him. Catch you later?”

“Yeah.” I thank her once more before I grab Remy’s diaper bag and travel swing. This feels like goodbye.

In a good way.

I load Remy into my car, and we hit the road.

Miami drivers are insane today, but I have precious cargo, so we take our time, which only makes my heart pump faster and the doubts and fears whisper louder. I distract myself by talking to Remy, who’s strapped in tight. He coos in response, and fuck, I love that kid.

He’s a lot of work. But he smiles when I walk in the door. The way he pumps his legs when he’s hungry—so fucking adorable. He’s getting better at holding his head up. And rocking him to sleep every night puts me more at peace than I’ve been in forever.

Except for that little hole in my heart where Daisy still belongs.

Once we get across the causeway, I turn the radio on to try to calm my nerves, but instead, the first thing I hear is two deejays talking about an anonymous donor who arranged catering for a full early Thanksgiving feast at all the Coast Guard stations around Miami.

Dessert included.

Of course.

I reach the Bluewater gate, and the guard holds up a hand. My heart stops in time with my truck.

“You got that baby?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say slowly.

He peeks in the back, and a grin as wide as the sea spreads over his face. “Miss that little fella. He’s getting big. You should come by more often.”

He waves me through, and I head into Daisy’s enclave. There are people playing tennis near the condo buildings. The Wealthy Widows are sipping something on the tropical miniature golf course’s clubhouse patio. Frank the parrot flies by overhead, and I can only imagine what’s coming out of his little beak.

The shops in the village are busy but not crowded, with a few putting out early Christmas lights, and people wave as we drive by.

It’s so Daisy.

Happy and a little wild, but also full of heart.

We pull down her long, empty driveway, and I wonder if I’ve gotten the wrong intel. If she’s not actually home. I know she quit her job. I know Imogen Carter’s on the verge of being overthrown at her own company by her board, and that Daisy’s being begged to go back. Even temporarily to oversee a smooth transition. And I’ve been led to believe that despite telling her yacht captain to take the boat to sea to make it look like she’s left town, she’s actually home.

I’ve barely parked before Alessandro steps out the door.

“You call first?” he asks.

I shake my head.

He grins. “Knew I liked you. She’s at the dick pool. How’s the little slugger?”

Remy smiles and waves from his carrier.

“Good to hear it, my man.” Alessandro boops his nose. “You keep growing, and don’t let Aunt Daisy pull any bullshirt, you hear me?”

Well over a month ago, I walked this same path around Daisy’s house to her pool. But I don’t feel anything like that dude expecting to find out that my brother set me up for a party.

I snort softly to myself.

Feels like a lifetime ago.

Voices carry down the path as I approach the pool, and one in particular stands out.

Loud. Boisterous. Happy.

Am I wrong?

Does she not need me?

“Yes! I want to pay for everyone’s pizza all night at all six of your locations. And can I have ten of those delivered to an address in Oak Park?”

My heart starts pumping again.

More than pumping.

It’s throbbing and glowing and telling my nuts to come out of hiding.

Oak Park.

I haven’t heard of an Oak Park neighborhood in Miami, but my parents live in Oak Park in Chicago.

“Shouldn’t you at least make sure they’re home before you order them pizza?” another female voice says. Emily, I think.

“That would take half the fun out of it. Hush,” Luna replies with a laugh.

“Just how good is Chicago pizza? Do I need to fuel up the jet?” Cam asks.

My heart stutters to a stop, and my eyes burn.

She is.

She’s ordering pizza for my family. And all of Chicago. Expanding her random acts of kindness around the world.

Remy coos loudly, and all the voices stop as we peek around the corner of the path and step out into the pool area.

All four of Miami’s strongest, smartest, hottest billionaires turn and look at us.

Cam reacts first. She leaps up. “Yep. I need to get that jet ready.”

Emily next. “I could go for pizza.”

“Is it vegan?” Luna pretends to be confused when Cameron and Emily grab her and head toward the souped-up, aerodynamic golf cart around the side of the pool house, but she winks at me before they load up and take off.