Page 30 of BillionHeir

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Chloe

“What was I thinking?” I grumble out loud to myself as I sit on a bench outside the hospital waiting for Maxwell to show up.

The truth of the matter is that I was feeling weak.

After the weight of all of my mother’s appointments yesterday and knowing that we would be doing it all again today, I was at a low point.

Add to it the fact that I do actually miss the man and the time we spent together, I just couldn’t bear not seeing him one more time.

I really don’t know why he is doing all of this though.

He apologized and I accepted. What else could he want?

Maybe he has some kind of misplaced feelings of responsibility for me, but he shouldn’t.

He has already paid me. Our time together is over, and this should be a clean break.

I really thought when I got out of the car yesterday that I had made things clear.

Over the last few days, I have been reflecting about everything that happened between us.

I suppose I had a feeling when he spent those few days holed up in his office that something was amiss, but when he rejected me so outright in front of Liam and Tristan, there was no denying that things between us were not at all what I thought they were.

Maybe we just are not as compatible as we thought we were.

I mean, honestly, I get it. I really do.

The man is a billionaire, and up until a week ago I was practically a penniless nurse.

But I certainly do not want to be with someone who is afraid to be seen with me or is ashamed of who I am and what I do for a living.

As far as I am concerned, there is really no need in prolonging the inevitable. He will eventually go back to his life, and I will go back to mine.

Which leads me in a whole other direction. What exactly am I going to do now? I suppose I could go back to work. Just because I have money now doesn’t mean that I have to sit around the house bored all day, does it? After all, I do love being a nurse .

I could stay here. I have a few friends in the UK who work in finance, and I am sure they would be happy to help me invest the money I made working for Maxwell.

If I am smart with it, I could probably live off it for the rest of my life.

I don’t need much. Just a place to call my own.

A quaint little cottage with some cozy furniture where I can curl up with a good book and shut out the world sounds rather dreamy right about now.

The nearly constant drizzle that my lovely country of birth is known for is once again gracing us with its presence.

I thought coming out early to collect my thoughts would be a good idea, but instead I am just getting more and more introspective, not to mention damp.

I am afraid I might not be very good company right now.

The large black SUV from the airport pulls smoothly up to the curb. I can’t help but look down at my watch. Five minutes early. Classy.

I expect Barnaby to jump out the way he did before, but instead, the back door opens from the inside and out steps my former boss and one-night lover, Maxwell Banks.

He looks better than ever dressed in a well-fitting suit with an open collar giving him a casual, recklessly hot appearance I wasn’t anticipating.

He looks so fit right now you might never know that he was in an accident that nearly killed him only two months ago .

His eyes sparkle when they find mine, as though I am a treasure he has long been searching for.

The look steals the breath from my lungs.

His eyes pin me in place as the sexual attraction pulses between us.

But there is something else there as well.

A small current of regret? A trace of shame?

Whatever it is, he masks it with a handsome smile that cuts through everything and makes me wonder how I ever walked away from him.

I quickly look away, but not before my blush betrays just how happy I am to see him as well.

He leans in to kiss my cheek politely. “Chloe,” he murmurs against my neck, sending chills down my spine with just one word.

“Maxwell,” I answer, pulling away to make eye contact once again, this time daring him to look away as the energy arcs between us. But maybe he doesn’t feel the same thing I do.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then turns toward the open door with a sweeping hand gesture. “Shall we?”

I look around the small courtyard, wondering if anyone else is watching this little spectacle, but find us strangely alone. Finally, I look back at Maxwell. “We shall.”

* * *

The tinkle of glass teacups meeting saucers and silverware scraping against plates fills the air inside the quaint cafe that Maxwell brought us to.

The soft murmuring of patrons around the room adds a warmth to the place, and the familiar sounds soothe my frazzled nerves.

As much as I love America, the UK will always be home.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask once the waitress has delivered our tea.

We have exchanged a few pleasantries since I got in the car, but otherwise we have mostly stayed quiet, exchanging furtive glances when we think the other isn’t paying attention. It is a quiet and weird cat and mouse, but one I have become familiar with from our early days in Maine.

Maxwell sighs as he stirs his English Breakfast tea, staring into his cup as though he can read the tea leaves to see our future.

“I spent the whole night thinking about all the things I could say or do to show you just how sorry I am for my behavior after our night together. But it all just sounded hollow.”

I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.

“And I am aware of just how selfish it is for me to tell you how much I miss you. But maybe if I explain exactly why I miss you, you might start to understand.”

“Max—”

“No, no,” he says, holding his hand up to stop me again. “Let me finish what I was going to say. I miss the man I am around you. The man you make me want to be. I have never been around a woman who brings out so much good in me .

“I miss the way your face looks when you are surprised or frustrated or deep in thought. I miss the way you ask me about my day. I miss the way you cared, even when you didn’t have to.

But most of all, I miss your smile from the moment I wake up until I finally fall asleep at night. Even then, it lingers in my dreams.”

I sit there for a second, too stunned to form a response or even a coherent thought. My heart is racing, and I feel my cheeks heat. My mind is totally blank.

What do I say to that?

I have already decided that this cannot go anywhere, no matter how sweet Maxwell can be sometimes. We are just too different. No matter how much I enjoyed our time together, or how sorry he is, nothing is going to change that.

“I . . .” I start before falling silent again. “I don’t know what to say. I just—I can’t. I am sorry.”

Unsure what else to do, I push out in my chair and rise, panicking as the legs grate loudly against the floor. Before Maxwell can say another word, I turn and dash through the restaurant and out the door.

Once I am out on the sidewalk, I wipe the tears from my eyes and scan the area, trying to get my bearings.

Lucky for me, there is a black cab coming down the street toward me.

When I raise my hand, the car immediately slows and pulls up to the curb beside me.

I quickly climb in and give the driver the address to the hospital.

The driver smiles at me in the mirror and nods once.

“You got it, doll,” he says, pulling away just as Maxwell steps out of the restaurant looking distressed.

His eyes meet mine with confusion and a hint of desperation before I turn and face the road ahead, leaving him and that tiny bit of my life behind.

* * *

“Are you alright, dear?” my mother asks when she gets back into the room after another series of tests.

“Of course,” I respond from the couch where I have been sitting lost in thought. I shake my head and rise from my seat. “Can I get you something to eat or a cuppa?”

“No, dear. I am just fine for now.” She winces as she settles into her hospital bed looking utterly exhausted.

“You need to rest,” I say, reading her face.

“What I need is a nice chat with my daughter. Here,” she says, patting a spot on the bed. “Come sit.”

I nearly tell her no. It is clear that a long day of being poked and prodded has worn her out. But the truth is I could use some comfort, as selfish as that might be right now. So, I do what I am told and settle cross-legged in the spot she made for me.

“Now,” she says as her eyes search my face, reading me the way only my own mother could. “Tell me what has been going on with you. ”

“Oh, mum,” I say, wondering just how much I should tell her. “It is so complicated. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, darling, just start from the beginning.”

I snort out a laugh at the simplicity she is implying.

“Okay,” I answer, dragging the word out to stall for time. “I had a man come into Sanctuary Springs. He offered me an obscene amount of money to quit and become his private nurse while he recovered.”

“How obscene?”

“Five million dollars.”

She gasps. “You are kidding.”

I shake my head. “Nope. So I took the job,” I continue.

“You would be a fool not to.”

“That is what I thought as well. I went with him to his summer estate in Maine and have been caring for him for the last several weeks as he has recovered from a helicopter accident.”

My mother’s eyebrows rise at the mention of Maxwell’s estate, but otherwise she stays quiet. Waiting for me to work out what I am going to say next.

“But then we started to fall for each other. Or at least, I started to fall for him. One thing led to another and . . .” I pause wondering if I am really going to tell my mum about my sex life. “We slept together,” I confess .