Page 65 of How to Belong with a Billionaire

“Thanks.” Nik turned towards us. “Walks off.”

We’d had plans to wander a bit in the gardens, which wound gently down towards the harbour. He’d delivered the words so aggressively, I wasn’t quite sure how he was expecting me to respond. In the end, I went with a neutral-sounding “Oh.”

“Can’t do snow,” he added. “Well, I can. But I’d need to fuck around with wheelblades and I’ve never used them before and…I don’t know. I don’t want to.”

“Fine with me.” Ellery pitched herself onto the crisp white sheets of Nik’s bed. “It is literally freezing out there.”

Nik shot me a shifty look from beneath the fall of his hair. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Good grief, don’t apologise,” I told him hastily. “I’m here to be with you. I don’t care what we do.”

“I care. I care about not being able to do things.”

Ellery rolled her eyes. “It’s not about doing or not doing. It’s about when and how, and if you want to figure out navigating snow with us standing right there, pointing and laughing.”

“I would not point and laugh,” I cried, outraged.

“No,” said Ellery, “but you’d look all, like, worried and shit, which is even worse.”

“She’s right.” Nik was smiling—his old, dimple-touched smile.

And Ellery, of course, looked unbearably smug. “I’m always right.”

“Before I forget”—Nik pointed to a large box in the corner of the room—“your family had that delivered. But we’re not allowed to open it until Christmas Day.”

I ran over to poke at it, smell it, and peer through the gaps of the packing tape. None of which helped me discern the contexts. “Oooh. What do you think it is?”

“Well.” Nik scratched his stubble thoughtfully. “I’m by no means an expert but I’d say it’s a box.”

I gave him a withering glare. “Har, har.”

And then Ellery made an odd sound, a sort of awkward half cough. “Look,” she muttered, “I kind of…picked something up for you as well. But it’s not a fucking Christmas present, okay? Because I do not do Christmas. Or presents.”

“So”—Nik raised a quizzical eyebrow—“it’s what exactly?”

“Something else.” She pulled a carrier bag out of her rucksack and tossed it into his lap. “Here. You might like these. Or not. I don’t care.”

Gingerly—and I couldn’t blame him for that—he peeled open the plastic.

Ellery squirmed in evident discomfort. “They’re these really tragic choose-your-own-adventure books from the eighties or whatever. My dad was really into them because he was a big stupid nerd and my brother, who is also a big stupid nerd, used to make me read them with him when I was sick. And since you’re clearly a big stupid nerd as well, I thought you might…not hate them.”

“Thank you,” said Nik. “I think.”

“Don’t do them by yourself, because that would be beyond sad. But you could play them with Arden, maybe. If you wanted.”

Nik was watching her with theconfused but okay with itexpression that signified a positive Ellery action. “What about you?”

“Why the fuck would I want to play a choose-your-own-adventure book with Arden? I’ve got way better things to do with my time.”

“No”—his lips twitched—“would you play one with both of us?”

She got super interested in the toe of her boot. “Out of pity.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

“Do I get a say in this?” I asked.

They both stared at me. “No.”