The Last Eligible Billionaire(98)

His smile has grown so broad that his eyes are twinkling, the creases in the corners making him impossibly handsome and irresistible, and I fall in love all over again.

How could I not? “This is you,” I whisper, touching the crinkles at the edge of his eye.

“This is me with you,” he whispers back. “Only with you.”

“It’s you?” Hyacinth says behind us as Marshmallow barks and lunges for Hayes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Watch my kids. I’m gonna go find a tick-infested bush to piss in.”

Hayes oofs and goes down, with Marshmallow licking his face all over while the man himself laughs. Dani stares at Hayes in awe, Leo bursts into tears and tries to follow Hyacinth, but I snag him and swing him around.

My eyeballs are still leaking, but I’m pretty sure this is joy. “There’s no crying in art, little Leo,” I tell my nephew. “Wanna see where your mama got in trouble for painting an elephant with two trunks?”

“Sit, you furry beast,” Hayes says, his voice rich and warm, his eyes shiny as he smiles at my dog.

Marshmallow flips over on his back and grins a happy, tongue-lolling grin at both of us.

“What kind of trouble will he get into at summer camp?” Hayes asks me.

I plop to the floor next to him, Leo in my lap, and press a kiss to his cheek. “There’s only one way to find out.”

He wraps one arm around me, the other ruffling Marshmallow’s fur as the dog climbs into his lap, and he presses a kiss back to my temple. “Thank you for showing me how to live again,” he whispers.

“Thank you for knowing what’s important,” I whisper back.

“I will cherish you until the end of time, my perfect Begonia.”

This wasn’t what I thought I wanted right now.

But being adored by this man, who knows even more than I do how much love can hurt when it’s done wrong? And knowing that he loves me for all of the things that make me me?

This is better than any Prince Charming fairytale.

Or maybe, it’s my own perfectly imperfect fairytale.





EPILOGUE





Hayes



“Just a few more feet,” I tell Begonia.

She clings to my hands, her eyes blindfolded, her steps slow but steady as we reach the end of the gangplank. “Why does it smell like the ocean is right under my feet?”

I hold her by the waist and guide her the last few steps, then tug at her blindfold. “Because it is.”

She blinks in the bright sunshine, and then her eyes go round and she shrieks.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur, pulling her tight against me. “And we’re not going anywhere. We’re docked. Won’t leave the pier unless you beg. Cross my heart.”

Marshmallow’s plastered to my leg, as if he gets just as seasick as Begonia does.

“Whose boat is this?” she asks.

“Mine. And it’s a yacht, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, is that so, Mr. Fancy?” She grins at me as we stand on my ostentatious vessel, and I find it impossible not to grin back.

“So very so,” I reply, parroting a phrase I heard her use with Hyacinth not four hours ago. “You feel okay?”

She leans into me and sucks in a breath so big, I can feel it in my own toes. “Fresh sea air, gorgeous fall trees, sunny skies, and the sweetest, most thoughtful boyfriend in existence holding me and ready to pull me off this boat if I start to feel woozy? I feel so amazing, I might have to dance.”

Marshmallow harumphs.

“I can too dance,” she tells him. “And even if I couldn’t, I should. Anyone can do anything they enjoy.”

“I enjoy doing you,” I offer.

And there’s that gorgeous Begonia beam. “You knew I’d chicken out if you let me see where we were going.”

“I suspected as much.”

“You took the leap for me and pulled me along for the ride.”

“Bluebell, you’ve led me to the cliff of so many leaps I never thought I’d take. It’s only fair to return the favor.”

She laughs. “We are so weird.”

“We are so us. Would you like a tour?”

When she nods, I loosen my hold on her so that I can turn her to look out to sea. “We are standing on this boat.”

“Yacht,” she corrects.

I smile and point over the covered cockpit. “That is the ocean.”

Marshmallow sighs.

Begonia cracks up. She twists and points to the Maine shoreline. “What’s that?”

“That is the most beautiful fall display you’ll see anywhere in the world. And it’s even more gorgeous when you sail up and down the shoreline, which we’ll only do when you’re ready.”

Violins strike up on shore, and she gasps, then pulls away and claps her hands. “You hired the Oysterberry Bay Island Orchestra.”

“And if you don’t feel too ill after your adventure on a boat, I do believe there’s a feast waiting for us.”

“Hayes.”

“Yes, my bluebell?”

She reaches her hands up to hold me by the cheeks. “This is love,” she whispers.

Ah, this woman. She has my eyeballs suddenly going hot. “And it’s my favorite kind of love,” I whisper back.