Billionaires Dollar Series

Beside her, Haven is watching me with wide eyes. I know what she’s thinking. She’ll ask to try in a second.

“All right, then.” I grab the large fry pan and twist my wrist, flipping the pancake high up in the air. After doing an Olympic-worthy somersault, it lands back in the pan.

Evie and Haven applaud. So does Bella, laughter in her eyes.

“Very impressive,” she tells me.

“Anything for the ladies,” I say.

“Can I try?” Haven says, stepping forward. I push back her honey-brown hair.

“I think you’d need both hands, sweetie. The pan is heavy.”

She looks down at her cast and gives a dramatic, pained sigh. I know for a fact she’s not in pain, though. I’ve followed the doctor’s dosage orders to the letter. Well, to the milligram.

“But you can set the table,” Bella offers instead. “I know you can do that one-handed.”

“Okay,” Haven says. “Can I use the fancy glasses?”

She’s asking Bella, who looks at me, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, go ahead,” I say. “She means wineglasses,” I tell Bella. “She likes to drink her water and orange juice out of them.”

Bella’s smile lights up her face. It’s the kind of smile that a man can’t do anything but stare at, wondering at his luck. A girl moves in next door who not only wants to sleep with me, but who somehow fit herself into this domestic narrative as well? It’s enough to make my mind spin away in what-ifs and could-bes.

“How fancy,” she teases. “Do you have them use linen napkins, too?”

“Yes,” I deadpan. “Evie’s starting finishing school next year.”

“Finishing school, huh?”Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Yes. Manners are really important in preschool. Who curtsies to who, you know.”

She rolls her eyes to me, but the smile on her face remains in place. Stupid jokes. Stupid feeling in my chest.

The sound of my doorbell sounds throughout the house. Frowning, I head to the intercom and press down answer.

I’m greeted by a familiar face.

“Mom?”

“Yes. Let me in,” she says, impatient as always. I do, and behind me, two little voices rise in happiness.

“Grandma’s here!”

They scamper off toward the front door, their feet echoing down the hallway. They’re more than capable of opening the front door on their own.

Bella bites her lip, looking at me. “Should I stay?” she asks.

It’s a split-second decision-whether or not to drag her deeper into my life, as if she wasn’t already deep enough. The whole thing feels like it’s spinning out of my grip.

“Yes,” I say. “Of course you should.”

My mother walks into the kitchen with long strides. In her late sixties, she’s still a force to be reckoned with, her permed hair like a helmet.

“Mom,” I say, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. “I didn’t know you were planning on stopping by today.”

Nor so early.

“You text me yesterday and tell me that my oldest granddaughter took a fall,” she says. “There’s no other place I’d be.”

Haven clings to her leg, holding up her cast. “Look, I chose purple.”

“Excellent color, dear,” Mom says. “It’s the color of ambition and nobility.”

Christ.

Haven beams at her comment, though I’d reckon she has no idea what either of those words mean.

“Mom,” I say, “I’d like you to meet Bella. Bella, this is my mother, Patricia.”

My mother’s hawk-like eyes focus in on Bella. “Delighted,” she says, shaking Bella’s hand. “I’m simply delighted.”

“So am I,” Bella says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Bella is my neighbor for the summer,” I supply. “She was here yesterday when Haven fell.”

“And now I’m making pancakes,” Bella adds, returning to the stove. “Would you like some breakfast?”

My mother settles down at the breakfast table. Haven grabs the seat next to her. “I’d love some,” she declares, “as well as the story behind how you two met. But first, Ethan, you’re teaching your children how to drink out of wineglasses? What are you thinking?”

I stifle a groan. Trust your mother to be able to embarrass you in front of a girl, even when you’re thirty-six and a father of two.

This is going to be a challenging morning.

My mother looks at the shut door long after Bella’s left. I shake my head at the discussion I know is coming and lift Evie up out of her chair.

“Where did Bella go?” she asks.

“She went home. She has work to do, you know.”

“Coming back?”

“Eventually, yes, I’m sure she will. But probably not today.”

Evie really only gets the yes part of that reply, smiling as she totters off toward the playroom that sometimes masquerades as my living room. “Bella’s a doggy,” she murmurs to herself. “Woof woof.”

What in the world?