Page 94 of The Reluctant Billionaire

The bottom line is that they need me and Lotta doesn’t. Sure, she wants me there; she’s excited to introduce me to her mates. She’s excited for our first trip abroad together. But she doesn’tneedme. She’ll know tonnes of people there and she won’t have to worry about babysitting me.

She’ll get over it.

The kids won’t get over it if their party goes south.

Fuck.

Got it. I’ll be there.

I drag my hand over my face before hovering my finger over Lotta’s number.

LOTTA

‘Hi, honey,’ I coo. ‘Guess what? The dresses just arrived. They’reamazing.’ Not amazing enough to remotely risk upstaging the bride, who’s going to look so beautiful I can’t even imagine it, but amazing enough to feel very good about being on my boyfriend’s arm this weekend. The rehearsal dinner one is a slinky, silk jersey coral number by Astrid Carmichael, while the gown for Saturday’s ceremony is Chanel. It’s pale aquamarine tulle, and sparkly, and to die for.

The smile on his gorgeous face is weak and tired. ‘I bet you’ll look gorgeous in them.’

I swivel away from my desk in my chair. ‘What’s up?’

‘Lotts.’ He closes his eyes and frowns. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t make it this weekend.’

‘You can’t—what?’ I stare at him in horror, waiting for him to grant me eye contact and explain himself, because it sounds like he’s standing me up.

He opens his eyes slowly and squints at his screen like he’s afraid of what he’ll see on my face.

Damn right.

‘There’s been an emergency,’ he begins. ‘Sylvie’s daughter, Shayla, is in labour. She’s five weeks early.’

‘Oh no!’ I clap my hand over my mouth. Sylvie’s been so excited about this baby. It’ll be her first grandchild. But even I know five weeks premature is far from ideal. ‘Is she okay? Is the baby okay?’

‘I don’t have many details—I just got a call from Judy. But it’s the summer party at the centre this weekend and Judy can’t make it. They need someone in there running the kitchen so it doesn’t all go to shit, so I’ve agreed to do it.’

‘But you’re not a chef,’ I say, ‘and they’ve got other volunteers who can help in the kitchen, don’t they? Can’t they get someone else to do it?’

He sighs and rubs his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. ‘They’ve got some volunteers, yeah, but Sylv and Judy run that place. Judy can’t do it by herself, baby. She’s too old. She needs someone there who knows the place like the back of their hand. I can take care of it all for her.’

And there we have it.

I can take care of it all for her.

Fucking Aide and his fucking saviour complex.

‘I’m so sorry about Sylvie’s daughter,’ I say, making a concerted effort to keep my temper. ‘It’s absolutely awful. But the community centre isn’t your problem this weekend, because you already made a commitment.To me.Remember? You can’t pull out of a wedding just like that.’

‘I hate doing this to you,’ he tells me, finally raising those big, blue eyes to me. I know he believes he’s telling the truth. ‘But I have no choice. I can’t let those kids down, sweetheart. They need me a lot more than you do.’

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

‘They’ll always needhelpa lot more than me,’ I tell him, and yeah, I raise my voice, because I’m now seriously fucked off. ‘But they don’t need you. They need a support system, and adults who are there for them, but that doesn’t fall on you, okay? And don’t tell me they need you more than I do because they’llalwayswin that argument if you let them.’

‘What am I supposed to do?’ he asks. ‘I can’t let this go south for them. If I don’t help, Judy might have to cancel the party—there’s no way I’m letting that happen.’

‘Honey,’ I say. ‘It’s not incumbent on you to make sure that place looks after itself. I know it means a lot to you, but you’ve pumped so much time and money into it already. You gave up two weeks of your time for it last month—that’s alot. If you’re so worried about it not being able to run itself then throw some more money at it and hire a fucking full-time manager who’ll be available for all these emergencies.It’s not your problem.’

‘It’s just a one-off,’ he pleads. ‘I’ll make it up to you. We can go away next weekend. Or—I know—I’ll fly out late Saturday or first thing Sunday and we can still do our quiet time together. But I told Judy I’ll be there tomorrow and Saturday, so there’s nothing I can do about that.’

‘Wrong,’ I bark. ‘You should’ve told her you’d be away tomorrow and Saturday and that there was nothing you could do except maybe offer to hire someone. Don’t go breaking your word to me like it means nothing and then make me feel like I’m being a selfish bitch for calling you out on it. You and I had a trip planned. You don’t get to go all unilateral and cancel it without checking with me first. It’s just so fuckingrude.’