The Billionaire Boss Next Door(92)

“I love you, Greer.”

Her crystal-blue eyes widen, and a shaky hand touches her mouth.

“I didn’t plan it, but our lives…and our friends…did.”

She laughs. I smile.

“We both had a lot at stake when we started this job, but in my opinion, life handed me a lot more than I bargained for.”

Finally, she nods. “Me too, Trent. And you know what?”

“What?”

She leans forward and presses her perfect lips to mine. “I love you too.”





Trent



“No way,” I argue, tossing a piece of popcorn into my mouth with amazing accuracy. “It’s five at most.”

“Pshh. Are you kidding? Have you seen her face?” Greer argues. “We’re definitely in transition. Seven. I’m calling it.”

Emory glares, nostrils flared, while she finishes breathing through a contraction. “If you guys don’t stop making bets on the size of my cervix, I’m going to climb out of this bed, baby motherfucking hanging out if I have to, and drag you out of the room myself.”

Greer pulls her lips inside her mouth and pretends to shake in fear. I fall a little more in love.

“I thought she’d at least threaten something serious,” I whisper. “Mass murder. Mutilation of our genitals. Something.”

“Don’t tempt me!” Emory yells through her clenched teeth as another contraction hits her.

“Wow,” Greer remarks. “You’re going to want to remember that childbirth obviously allows superhuman hearing. For future reference.”

Goddamn, this woman. She makes my life.

A year and half ago, I dressed up like Walter White—for a second time—and convinced Greer to give me another chance, and I’m certain no one has ever loved this woman like I do.

I have memorized all of her smiles. All of her laughs. I know her annoyed sighs and her sassy glares. I know what makes her wet, and I know what makes her come.

I know her. All of her. And I’ve never been happier in my entire life.

My smile is unstoppable as I cuddle into her on the hospital couch and bump her with my shoulder. “You want to have kids with me?”

She giggles. “Yeah. Someday.”

“Like, how someday someday? Should we start trying now? I think I saw an empty room down the hall.”

“Easy, Walt,” Greer says with a laugh. “You’re going to have to give me time to heal from the trauma of watching Emory give birth first.”

“You’re not watching me give birth!” Emory yells. “Quince, you better get them out of here before I ki—”

“Okay, okay,” Cap says, stepping forward from the corner, a surprising peacemaker.

“Quince, you just stay with Emory. I’ll handle Mo and Larry.”

He grabs me by the shoulder, but I shake him off so I can offer Greer a hand up as she frowns. “What happened to Curly?”

“He died,” Cap says stoically before pointing back over his shoulder. “She killed him. So, let’s go before you both meet the same fate.”

The two of us laugh our way into the hall, poking and prodding and teasing each other all the way to the snack area. St. Luke’s Hospital in New York is big and sterile and about as unromantic as possible—and apparently very advanced if Emory’s parents insisting that she give birth here is anything to go by—but it’s the gesture…the moment that I’m after. The one that will suit the woman I’ve fallen head over heels in love with.

The woman I would have moved to New Orleans for.

Instead, she gave up everything she’d ever known, the city she loved, and living close to the only family she’s ever had to move to New York and chase dreams with me.

After taking over Turner Properties, I took it upon myself, as one of my first official acts, to hire an in-house designer for all of our new projects and updates alike.

She’s sassy and unfiltered and my favorite human being on the entire planet Earth.

Hopefully, the one I’ll get to introduce as mine for the rest of my days.

We stand in front of the vending machine as Greer makes her selection, and I wait nervously to see how well I really know her.

Cap gives the nod from about ten feet away, taking out his phone to be ready.

I’m just fucking hoping he gets pictures of something other than an epic fail.

Greer clucks and hums and hems over her decision for so much time that I can feel a bead of sweat run down my spine.

I’m pretty sure I lose moments off my life, but that’s okay. I’ll want to go first anyway.

The idea of living without her at this point is…inconceivable.

She finally pushes the button for A7, and everything inside me locks up with anticipation.

This is really happening.

Thank God for Greer’s mostly predictable love for Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles.

When the bag drops into the tray and she bends over to take it, I glance over my shoulder at Cap to see he’s giving me a thumbs-up.

A lot of planning—and if I’m honest, a lot of money—went into today, but I couldn’t imagine anything more appropriate.

Greer isn’t a fancy, hoity-toity kind of gal. She doesn’t put on airs, and she sure as shit wouldn’t want me to get down on one knee at some stuffy restaurant that serves caviar and outrageously priced champagne.