Billionaires Dollar Series

“No, I can’t have that,” I say. They’d been by my side all through the hellish time, when my ex had said those disastrous four words. I’ve met someone else. I don’t know if it’s better or worse when there’s no warning and no time to adjust. Trina and Wilma had been there throughout that emotional roller-coaster ride.

“But what has he actually said?” Wilma insists. “Give us cold, hard facts.”

I reach for the baking soda. “Well, he’s said several times that he can’t offer me anything, that he doesn’t have time to date. He’s also mentioned that his divorce was a bad one, and he’s not on good terms with his ex-wife.”

“He’s likely scarred by that,” Trina says. “Perhaps unwilling to trust again. Focuses on his children and work instead of relationships.”

“They’re his shield,” Wilma agrees. “Perhaps he even thinks he can’t keep a woman? That no one would want a man with two young kids and no time?”

Trina hums in agreement. “That must be it, too,” she says. “Although the fact that a multi-millionaire mogul can get scared and self-conscious does not bode well for the rest of us.”

“Not at all,” Wilma says. “Bella will just have to help him overcome his trust issues.”

“Hold on, hold on,” I demand. “When did you two become therapists, huh? Where did all this psychoanalysis come from?”

“Tell us we’re wrong,” Trina challenges.

“I don’t know if you’re wrong or right.” I frown at the bag of cocoa powder. “But… it would make sense if that was his motivation, yes. Of course, it doesn’t have to be that complicated. He could just not be interested in anything more with me.”

“Bella,” Wilma complains. “Stop it.”

“It’s possible!” I insist. “And that would be okay, too. At this point, we have too few data points.”

“So go get some more,” Trina says. “You haven’t spoken for three days, right?”

“That’s right. He’s been busy. And so have I, for that matter.” The words only burn a little on the way out. It’s not technically a lie. I’ve been making progress on my thesis and I’ve been on one apartment tour.

And I haven’t been wondering why my phone had fallen silent after our brief goodnight text that evening.

Not at all.

“Bella…” Wilma says. “Are you really okay with that?”

“No,” I say. “But my freak-out is really very minor. I know for a fact he enjoyed it. A lot, actually. And I know he’s busy. So I’m coming up with a strategy.”

“I like the sound of this,” Trina says. “New lingerie? Phone sex?”

“Show up to his office in nothing but a trench coat?” Wilma suggests.

“Chocolate muffins.”

Trina groans as the same time as Wilma exclaims, “Yummy!”

“Your signature move,” Trina says. “Bribing people with baked goods.”

I start combining the dry ingredients, glancing at the oven. Almost at temperature. “It worked on the two of you,” I point out. “And so far it’s worked splendidly on him.”

“Honey, I think he was always interested in more than just your cupcakes.”

That tears a laugh out of me. “You might be right about that.”

“But hey, why not? Gives you an excuse to go over there, right?”

“Exactly,” I say. “Baking with a purpose.”

“You’re devious,” Wilma says.

“And clever. But let us know how it went this time, okay?” Trina says. “I haven’t forgotten that we were the ones who had to dare you to go over there.”

“And I haven’t heard a thank-you yet!” Wilma chirps.

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m your eternal servant.”

“That’s a bit much. Some cookies would be enough.”

“Noted.”

“Now scram,” Wilma says. “And put on something cute when you go over there.”

“Something that makes the ‘cupcakes’ look good,” Trina says with a laugh.

“I’ll send you a picture of the outfit later.”

“And an update!”

“And an update,” I agree. We click off, the giant kitchen falling silent once more. I smile the entire way through my baking. Trust Wilma and Trina to put things into perspective for me.

And they were right. They had been the ones to dare me to go over there in the first place. Toast comes jumping onto the kitchen counter to inspect what I’m doing.

“No,” I tell him, reaching over to pick him up. He looks at me grumpily, his mission thwarted. “No cats allowed on the kitchen counters.” At least not while I’m baking, but I don’t add that. It’s better to be consistent.

He gives an annoyed meow. “I know,” I say. “But only a month and a half left now before your real humans get back. Excited?”

Toast looks spectacularly unexcited and heads off to the living room. Yeah, well, I wasn’t too excited about that either, or about the conversation I’d still not had with Ethan. The one where I was not the Gardners’ niece. Every day that passed would make it harder when I finally had to, which was annoying in and of itself, when it wasn’t that big of a deal in the first place.

Tonight, I tell myself, putting the muffins into the oven. Tonight, I’ll do it. I’ll give him muffins and the truth.

What man could resist that?

That’s not at all what happens.NôvelDrama.Org copyrighted © content.

I ring the bell by Ethan’s gate a bit after six p. m. He should be home, and they should just have finished dinner, in time for the girls to watch a bit of TV before heading off to bed. It’s all a long string of shoulds.

Maria isn’t the one who answers. It’s Ethan, his voice distant. “Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Bella. I made some extra muffins and wondered if the girls want any?”

In the background, a little girl screams, “Muffins!” I can’t tell if it’s Evie or Haven.