The Last Eligible Billionaire(97)

Oh, my heart.

My battered, bruised, hopeful heart. “You turned the plane around.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—I shouldn’t have—god, Begonia, I’m so fucking tired of being afraid to live, and you just breathe and you live. Even when you’re terrified of something, you’re alive in it. I’m a toad basking in the glory of your rainbow, knowing you don’t need me, that you could have your pick of princes and gods and unicorns, but hoping you want me anyway, because you light up my life. You make me smile. You make me hope. You make me want to dance under the stars. And I—I don’t know what I have to offer you in return, but whatever it is you want, it’s yours. You want my time, it’s yours. You want my ears, they’re yours. My heart—Begonia. I swear, you stole it the minute you confused me with a dead president, and I don’t know how that’s even possible, but it’s the simple truth. I want to be where you are. I want to bask in your sunshine. And I want to show you every single day how perfect and precious and adored you are.”

“Hayes.” I can barely whisper his name.

“Please tell me I’m not too late. Tell me some lucky fool hasn’t swooped in while I was being an idiot.”

I shake my head. My legs are quivering. My eyes are leaking. I can feel him trembling too. And I know I’m safe.

“I want to tell you what you want to hear, but the words feel so hollow and insignificant compared to how I feel about you. I can’t—I can’t minimize what you mean to me by using a phrase that’s been ruined in my head.”

Hayes-speak for I love you too much to trivialize it with a Razzle Dazzle line.

This man.

“Can I say it to you?” I whisper.

“You can say anything to me. You turn every word into magic.”

“We’re a complicated mess, aren’t we?”

“I’m a complicated mess, while you are utterly perfect. I’m fucking this up again.”

“I didn’t want this now,” I say into his shoulder.

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll be here.”

I’ll be here.

It’s not I love you.

It’s better.

Hayes Rutherford doesn’t go out of his way to buy summer camps for people he doesn’t care about, and he hates peopling with people he doesn’t like.

He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t love me, and he loves me too much to tell me with words that have lost all meaning to him.

“Promise?” I whisper.

“I would promise you anything.”

“Just promise you won’t leave. Please promise me you won’t leave again.”

His breath whooshes out like he’s been holding it for weeks, and then he’s kissing my neck, sending delicious shivers dancing across my skin. “You are my universe, Begonia. My entire world.”

I breathe him in and stroke his back, slowly realizing he’s in a casual T-shirt. Not a suit or a button-down to be found here. “I missed you,” I whisper.

“You’ll never have to again. Never. You have my word.”

I wince.

I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. “I know you’ll work late—”

“I requested a transfer to a new division. No more long hours, unless they’re with you.”

I wince again.

I don’t want to.

But I can’t help myself.

He pulls back, just enough to peer down at me, and once again, I lose my breath.

Okay.

Okay.

I’m pretty sure when a man looks at you that way, you can trust him when he says he’ll stop working late. “Family first, and you, Begonia, are my favorite family. And I’m not merely saying that because I’m hoping to entice you to join me as the fourth employee of Razzle Dazzle’s new summer camp division.”

“Shut. Up.” The words fly before I can think, and my vision blurs once again.

He kisses my forehead, my temple, my cheek. “You’re welcome to decline, though I’m fairly certain Winnie and Merriweather would be devastated. I’d become unemployed as well, if you do, and would have to spend my days as a mostly useless freeloader happily fetching all the chewed-up wooden works of art your dog can get his jaws on. And that idea does have its own merit. I would be quite content fetching your coffee and tea and art supplies and keeping you from defiling kitchens all day long.”

I laugh at the idea of Hayes keeping me from making horrific food. But it feels right, too. He cooked so much in Maine, and he seemed to enjoy it, whereas he clearly didn’t enjoy his job. Or the social life in New York.

“Kids or adults?” I ask.

“I was thinking beef, or chicken, or even tofu. Eating kids is frowned upon, and adults can get rather chewy.”

“No, you goofball, the summer camp. Is it for kids or adults?”

He smiles at me, warm and amused and bursting with affection, and I lose my breath. “Ah. Of course. The summer camp. Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Kids or adults. Yes.”

“Do you have a plan at all?”

“Yes. Buy a camp, fly to ask Begonia to be my life partner in bringing all of her long-buried dreams to life, and then do whatever she tells me to make that happen.”