Page 90 of The Billionaires' Gamble

“In a heartbeat.” She snaps her fingers, all sass this morning. It’s gotta be the bathtub.

Last night, I abandoned her and slept in the pool house between Alex and King. It was a tight fit, what with me sprawled across Alex and King curled around me like a starfish, but I was warm and safe and blissed out.

The only blemish on the evening was Gabe not being there. As far as I know, he hasn’t left the beach house.

I’m painfully tempted to ask King what’s going on. What Gabe said yesterday and how he seems. Anything.

But a part of me doesn’t want to know the truth.

The voice in the back of my mind worries that these bliss-filled two weeks were all I’ll ever have. Because wouldn’t that be my luck?

So I guess I just don’t want to know the truth yet. Not while I can stay in this bubble with friends and family.

For the first time, maybe ever, it feels like I’m legitimately building good, healthy relationships. That my future is bright and all mine. I know it’s going to take more work and a lot of difficult conversations.

The police had an endless stream of questions. Not to mention the attorneys.

Then there’s my position at Chanler & Cort, which I really don’t want to think about yet. Eventually, I’m going to have to stop running away, though.

And I’m sure the board of Winter-Farmington is on high alert. I owe them an explanation and need to assure them of my commitment to the organization and the children we help. Our quarterly meeting is coming up, so I should probably put some thoughts together and maybe call the chairwoman.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I tell Shon. “The minute you graduate, we’re going to hop on the jet and go somewhere fabulous to celebrate.”

“Just tell me what to pack,” she says, stabbing a hunk of cantaloupe with her fork.

The pool house door opens, and Alex steps out under the striped shade of the pergola. Will I ever get used to how gorgeous he is? How stealthily he moves?

I dearly hope not.

The excitement swirling in my belly is more delicious than Marissa’s cinnamon buns, and I never want the feeling to end.

Shon smothers a chuckle and a low “Girlllll…”

I’ve got it bad. I know it. She knows it.

“Morning,” he says to the table, but his attention is on me.

Seriously, I wish this for everyone. The utter contentment. The relief and rightness that family can bring. Found family, because I’ll never buy into the whole blood-over-everything again.

He squeezes my shoulder and pulls up a chair. Ford and Sutton scoot over to make room, and he murmurs his thanks.

“Have you eaten anything?” Dad asks. “Marissa made cinnamon buns this morning.”

Alex nods, looking utterly confident and comfortable. “She made me a smoothie earlier.”

It’s still a little weird being here with my dad. Over the years, when I visited Ford, Dad was often gone. Work and life keep him busy. So two mornings in a row is… special. And though he watches me and Alex with curiosity, it feels like the same sort of interest any good father would give his daughter and the man she’s dating.

“Well, help yourself if you get hungry.”

Marissa appears like a fairy godmother and asks Alex what he’d like to drink.

“She spoils us,” I say to no one in particular.

“Thank goodness. This one would forget to eat otherwise.” Ford nods at Sutton.

How sweet is my little brother? I’m impressed he both notices and worries about Sutton like that.

“He’s got stuff on his mind,” Dad says.