The Billionare

35

“How often does Brett come here to see her?”

He swallowed and chewed off some cookie. “All the time, but if it were up to her, he would live here again.”

“Again?”

Jenner explained how Brett’s agency had started in Miami and how he’d opened an office in LA when he started dating James. I could understand the desire to relocate if you were dating a Hollywood star, but having lived in both cities, Miami took precedence, in my opinion.

The taste of South Florida just couldn’t be beat.

And Gloria didn’t have a franchise in LA.

“It’s so nice that you make an effort to see her when you’re here.”

“I didn’t visit her last time, and I felt guilty about it.” He laughed. “And Brett gave me a boatload of s**t for not stopping in.”

I took out another piece, moaning through the bite. “You made up for it.”

He stared at me, still. “She got to meet you.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing. I just let the words hang in the air, listening to them repeat in my mind.

Feeling them move into my heart.

“What did she say to you?” I set the box on my lap. “You know, when she whispered in your ear?”

His eyelids narrowed, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Why don’t you tell me what she said to you?”

I smiled. He was such a lawyer. “How do you know she told me anything at all?”

A chill moved across my body when he said, “Because I know …”

Jenner

“W

e’re here again,” I said, glancing at Jo across the front seat of her car, parked in the lot of Miami’s private airport.

She took off her seat belt and turned toward me. “I like the picking-up part. Not the dropping-off part.”

The weekend had ended much faster than I’d anticipated, and we’d had a hell of a time together.

Each visit, things got better.

And the truth was, I wasn’t excited about my departure either.

I didn’t know what that meant, but I couldn’t spend too much time focusing on it because there was nothing I could do to change the reality of our situation.

Every time we were together, I saw the potential of what we could be.

Every time I left, it reinforced why this, long-term, would be far too hard to maintain.

“Come on,” I said, squeezing her leg, encouraging her to get out.

I moved over to the trunk, and she hit the button to open it. I grabbed my suitcase, and once the wheels hit the ground, I released the handle and wrapped my arms around her, holding her to my chest. I pressed my lips against her head, breathing her in.

“Is this good-bye?”

I knew what she was asking.

I just didn’t know if I could give her an answer.

So, I gave her the truth. “I hope not.” And I held her face with both hands and kissed her.

We stayed pressed together, her air mixing with mine, until I pulled away. There was emotion in her eyes that I couldn’t miss.

That I didn’t want to see.

That I didn’t want to be the cause of.

Goddamn it.

I couldn’t walk away and have this be the final memory.

I lowered my hands to her neck and tilted her face up. “You’d better eat that last piece of blueberry cake for breakfast.”

A smile tugged at those gorgeous lips, and she giggled.

That was what I needed to see.

To hear.

To feel as her body vibrated against mine.

“Already planning on it.”

“I would be incredibly disappointed otherwise … so would Gloria.”

She shook her head, staring at me. “Jenner …”

When she wrapped her arms around my neck, I hugged her tighter this time, rubbing across her shoulders and down her back.

“I know,” I whispered.

I cupped her cheeks, aiming her face up at mine, allowing me to keep her close, to direct her to my mouth.

To give those stunning lips as much pressure as I wanted.

The moment I pulled away, the war returned to her eyes.

The passion. The hunger. The sadness.

I found her hand and squeezed it, my other fingers now clinging to the handle of my suitcase, and I brought those beautiful black nails up to my lips and kissed them, giving one last brush to the side of her cheek before I took a step back.

And then another.

“You’re not going to say good-bye?”

“Do you want me to?”

She shook her head, pressing her fingers to her heart. “God, no.”

I paused for just a second, taking her in, and then I lifted my hand in a wave and walked through the door of the building.

The staff immediately greeted me, taking my suitcase, giving me a chance to turn around to look through the tinted glass door.

But I didn’t.

I knew better.

“Heard you saw my mom,” Brett said from across the table.

Now that we had all finally returned to LA—Brett had visited James on set, Dominick and Kendall had escaped to Cabo, Ford had taken Everly to Disney, and I had been in Miami—we met up for our weekly dinner.

I surrounded my scotch with both hands, hoping the conversation would die here. “I did.”

But I knew it wouldn’t.

Their asses had become extremely nosy when it came to what was happening between Jo and me.

“And?” Brett inquired.

“And what, motherfucker? I went to your mom’s shop, I got a cookie and some fudge, I tried to pay her, she wouldn’t let me, and I left.”

“Why so many I’s in that sentence?” Brett asked. “Shouldn’t it be we?”

Every eye at this table was on me.

They all knew I had been in Miami to see Jo.

It wasn’t a secret.

I wasn’t playing a pronoun game. I was just avoiding the conversation.

“Why tell you something you already know?”

Brett laughed. “I see what’s happening here. You’re hoping by avoiding the topic altogether, we’re going to let it go and that we’re not going to point out that you’ve now made two trips to Miami to see a girl you don’t want to have a relationship with.”

I drained my glass, hoping the waitress would appear any second so I could order another one. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Really?” Ford asked.

“Really,” I answered.

“Bullshit,” Dominick barked. “I don’t believe you.”

I glanced at my older brother. “I’m not lying. I don’t have any more trips planned to see her.”

“Yet,” Brett chimed in.

Fuck me, they were relentless.