The Billionaire's Boyfriend

  Sure, he responded with almost immediately. I just wanted to talk about us.

  Fear struck Gina right behind the eyes. She knew what Owen wanted. He wanted her to stay on the island. Show some commitment to him and them and everything.

  He wanted her to talk about her feelings. Wanted her to open up to him. Wanted her to be a sounding board for him, while he supported her.

  The door between them was still open, and though she kissed him, went out with him, held his hand, spent time with him and his kids, she had not invited him into her life yet.

  “Gina,” the receptionist called, and Gina stuffed her emotions away, the same way she did her device.

  “Go on back. She’s waiting for you.”

  “Thank you, Marlin.” Gina walked down the hall, her head suddenly pounding the way it had after she’d fallen. She opened the door like she wasn’t sure who or what would be on the other side though she’d been here dozens of times.

  “Good afternoon, Gina.” Doctor White set her phone down and pushed to a standing position from where she leaned against her desk. She wore a warm smile, her dark curls at chin-length, and that trademark sparkle in her eye.

  Even when she asked Gina the really tough questions, she seemed happy about it.

  “Hey, Doctor White.” They embraced and Gina sat in her favorite chair, a yellow armchair that had a foot rest in it if she leaned back far enough.

  She set her purse on the floor and reached into it to silence her phone. When she looked at Doctor White again, the woman had a mint extended to her.

  Gina took it and unwrapped it while Doctor White settled back against the desk like it was a chair.

  “Tell me about something,” she said.

  “I’m halfway done with the one-bedroom apartment suites,” she said. “The hotel has been renting them for their long-term guests, and the feedback has all been positive.”

  “That’s great.” Doctor White had a way of speaking so that everything sounded the same. She could’ve said, “How terrible,” in the exact same tone. It had unnerved Gina at first, but now she was used to it. Now, she knew she was there to talk, not Doctor White.

  “Go on.”

  “The double vanities are beautiful.”

  “Two work things.”

  Gina sucked in a big breath. “I don’t want to talk about Owen.”

  “All right.” But Doctor White didn’t say anything else. Didn’t prompt Gina with a different topic. And the only thing swirling through her mind was Owen, Owen, Owen.

  “I need to start looking for a house.”

  “You’ve said that.”

  And Gina had, for at least six weeks. She’d mentioned it to Owen once, but neither of them had brought it up again.

  “I work too much.”

  “Three work things.”

  Gina sighed, suddenly not in the mood for therapy today. She’d told Doctor White a lot already, and the woman had coached her through several of her past traumas. She had coping mechanisms in place now, ways to refocus her thoughts when they went down a dangerous path, and she’d let go of so much past baggage.

  It was the present stuff that was plaguing her.

  “Work is out,” Doctor White said. “Have you told Owen any of the things we talked about last time?”

  Gina stared straight ahead. “No.”

  “Tell me the reasons for that.”

  Gina opened her mouth and let the first thing that came to her mind cross her vocal chords. “Because I’m comfortable with things how they are.”

  “Ah.”

  Gina could hear Doctor White’s words without her even saying them. Comfortable doesn’t encourage change.

  “Do you think Owen is comfortable?”

  Gina pressed her lips together and shook her head. “He just called me. Said he wanted to talk tonight.”

  “Talking is good.”

  “Except when it’s bad.”

  “Fatalistic,” Doctor Owen said. “Switch that.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Doctor White came over to the grouping of chairs and sofas in her office. She always sat on the brown leather couch, far right, kitty corner from Gina. Today was no different.

  “I’m not sure why you’re here,” she finally said. “I want you to come as often as you want. But you haven’t done any of the things we discussed last week, and frankly, until you do, I can’t take you to the next step.”

  Gina met her therapist’s eyes. “I’m scared.”

  “I know that.” Doctor White leaned forward, those sparkling eyes so earnest. “But fear only holds you back. You need to talk to Owen. You need to address the issues with him. And only then can you decide what to do next. How can you expect to make a decision when you don’t have all the facts? Would you do that with your closets?”

  “No.”

  “He’s more important than your closets.”

  Gina knew he was, but she hadn’t been treating him that way. “He asks so many questions, and I feel like if I can’t give the right answers, he’ll break up with me.”

  “At least then you’ll know. Living in this in-between state…you don’t like that, remember?”

  “I remember.” They’d spent three sessions on Gina’s control issues, and no, she didn’t like living a life where she didn’t know what would happen next. Which was exactly why she hadn’t advanced anything with Owen. Because she didn’t know what would happen next. Would he propose? Did he want more kids? Where would they live? Should she even buy a place if they were going to live in his house?

  Her own questions were endless and had plagued her for weeks. So she ran and she organized and she avoided hard topics with Owen like they were a deadly disease.

  “I’ll tell him tonight.”

  Doctor White didn’t smile. Didn’t raise her eyebrows like I’ll believe it when I see it. She just nodded and clapped her hands against her knees. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  “Nancy,” Gina said. “I remembered the name of the woman who used to make me pluck the chickens.” Before she’d started with Doctor White, Gina would’ve shuddered. But her past didn’t define her future. Not anymore.

  “Ah, yes. Nancy,” Doctor White said as if she’d known all along. “Is that chapter closed?”

  “I’m going to try eating chicken again,” she said. “So I’ll let you know.” Gina picked up her purse, and Doctor White stood.

  “I’m sorry,” Gina blurted.

  “Nope.” Doctor White shook her head. “We don’t say that here.”

  Gina smiled, but it felt a little wobbly. She’d had much harder sessions, but somehow, this one felt so emotional. “I know. Don’t apologize for who you are. Just go be someone better.”

  Doctor White opened the door. “Come back soon, Gina.” She said it after every session, and Gina wondered if the woman had anything in her life that haunted her. Hurt her. Hampered her happiness.

  She hoped so, and immediately felt bad. But it didn’t seem fair if Doctor White wasn’t human like the rest of them.

  Once in the safety of the shade around the side of the building, Gina reached for her phone at the same time it buzzed.

  Panic blipped through her. She wanted to go to Owen on her own terms. Needed a bit more time to get ready to focus her thoughts and address her fears

  The screen read Classy Closets Inc. and she hurried to answer it, trying to mentally calculate the time difference at the same time. “Hello?”

  “Miss Gina?”

  “Who is this?” It wasn’t Toni, whom she’d been expecting.

  “It’s Sammy MacGuire, ma’am.” Her high-pitched voice seemed made of nerves. “I’m just wondering if you’ve heard from Toni. She hasn’t been in for a few days, and none of us can get ahold of her.”

  The bottom of Gina’s world fell out from underneath her feet. “What?”

  “Toni Gavinshaw?” the woman said. “I’m just the receptionist, and people keep callin’ for things I don’t know nothin’
about.” She sounded near tears, and Gina was getting close to that too.

  “When’s the last time you saw Toni?”

  “Monday, ma’am.”

  It was Friday, and Gina knew the volume of business and calls Classy Closets received on a daily basis.

  “So you haven’t heard from her?”

  “No,” Gina said. “I’ll see what I can find out. Thank you, Sammy, for calling.” She hung up before the waver in her voice threatened to swallow her whole.

  She employed one of the tactics Doctor White had taught her and switched her thoughts to something more positive.

  Her favorite thing on the island: running with Owen. She envisioned the pounding rhythm of their feet, the evenness in her breathing, the steady, comforting presence of him beside her.

  When she opened her eyes, she didn’t feel like the ground was too brittle to hold her weight.

  But she also knew she couldn’t wait to get back to Dallas and figure out what was going on. If Toni hadn’t been in to work for four days….

  Gina refused to let her thoughts spiral. Toni was not Ian. “She’s not,” she said as she pulled up the number for Esther’s car service.

  “Hi,” she said. “I need a ride to the airport.”

  While she waited, she called Owen, nowhere near the conversation she wanted to have right now. “Hey there, beautiful,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Hey,” she practically barked. “I know you wanted to talk, but can I get a rain check on it? Something’s happened in Dallas, and I need to get back there tonight.”

  “What happened?” His flirty tone was all business now.

  “I don’t know,” she said as a shiny, black car rounded the corner. She lifted her hand to flag down the driver. “But my general manager is missing.” She slid into the car and said, “Airport, please.” She had enough money to buy whatever she needed between now and the time she arrived at her house in Texas.

  “I’ll come with you,” Owen said.

  “Don't’ be silly,” she said, softening her words with a giggle. “There’s no way Sweet Breeze could function without you.”

  “Oh, they’d be fine.”

  “Owen.” Gina didn’t know what else to say, and hoped that everything she felt for him could be said in four letters and two syllables.

  “Fly safe,” he said, his voice reverent. “Call me when you land. No matter what time it is.”

  Gina nodded, feeling foolish that her emotions had chosen now to strike, when he couldn’t see her to know she was agreeing with him.

  “Okay,” she finally managed to push out and she hung up before she could break down completely in front of him.

  “No,” she said. “Not breaking down over this.” And she wouldn’t. She’d fly to Texas, find out what was going on, and fix it.

  But as she hurried into the airport and joined the line at the ticket counter, she couldn’t help feeling like she’d already done that once. And she wasn’t sure she had the strength to do it all over again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Owen did not like the idea of Gina flying to Texas overnight. He also had no idea what to do about it. She was a grown woman, with a lot of money. She certainly didn’t need him.

  His chest tightened as if someone had wrapped a rubber band around it and was twisting.

  He pulled into the driveway, his mood as dark as the clouds that had rolled in a few hours ago. The scent of orange chicken and crispy wontons made him want to punch something, but he calmly collected the food and went inside.

  Cooper sat on the couch with a book open across his lap, tapping on his phone to check something. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hey.” Owen practically threw the food on the counter. “Where’s Zach?”

  “In his room.”

  Owen went down the hall to the first door on the right, which was closed. He pounded on it, maybe a little harder than necessary.

  Calm down, he told himself. He’d endured difficult situations before. Heck, walking in on his wife had been downright humiliating and heart-wrenching. He’d spent a long time in the anger camp too and learned how to get past those debilitating emotions.

  But he really needed to talk to Gina, and with their relationship basically paused, he felt completely out of control.

  “Zach.” He knocked again, this time opening the door a moment later—and came face-to-face with a blonde girl.

  Lightning struck him, making him freeze and stare straight at her.

  “Dad,” Zach said, rushing forward. “Uh, you’re home…this is Maizee.”

  “She’s in your room.” Owen switched his gaze to Zach. “With the door closed.”

  “We were just studying.”

  “Calculus,” Maizee said, her voice very much like a squeaky mouse.

  Owen had no idea what to do. There was no manual to consult. No pause button he could push until he gained control of his emotions and then consulted the manual that didn’t exist.

  “It’s time for dinner.” Owen turned and walked back into the kitchen, footsteps behind him moving toward the front door instead of following him. He methodically got out the white containers of food, pulled plates from the cupboard, and got out forks. “Dinner, Coop.”

  Cooper set aside his work and came over to the counter.

  “How often does Zach bring Maizee home?”

  “I don’t know.” Cooper shrugged and reached for the ham fried rice. “A lot, I guess.”

  Snakes writhed in Owen’s stomach, squirming their way into his bloodstream. Zach walked into the kitchen, guilt practically exuding from his body.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Yeah?” Owen almost ripped the flaps on one of the containers. “About what?” He held the Mongolian beef in his hand and stared at his son.

  Zach ducked his head and shrugged. “I should’ve told you about Maizee last fall.”

  “Yep.”

  “And not taken her into my room alone.”

  “Right again.”

  Zach looked at Owen, all of his emotions streaming across his face. “I haven’t done anything stupid.”

  “You’re on strike three,” Owen said. “So you’ll give me every answer I want until I’m sure you’re the smart son I raised.” He forked some food onto his plate and took the container from Cooper.

  “No girls in boy’s bedrooms,” he said, the rules for his sons slipping off his tongue as easily as blinking. They knew them. Owen had drilled them into them for months the year Zach had turned fourteen. After all, Owen had been fourteen once too, and it wasn’t easy.

  “We call or text when we’re not going to be home on time. We trust each other with everything.” He stabbed his fork at Zach. “I told you about my girlfriend. Kissing and everything.” He shook his head, this day about the worst one he’d had since having to call the cops on a woman who’d locked herself in a guest room with her four-year-old son.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” Zach said, and he sounded like he was. But sometimes sorry couldn’t undo stupid.

  “What else do I need to know?” he asked. “I can see your grades online. I get emails and phone calls when you miss even a single period. So at least you’re going to class.”

  “I am,” Zach said. “The AP tests are next week. We really were studying.”

  “And you couldn’t do that at the table out here?”

  Zach looked at Cooper, and Owen saw it all. “Of course you can. But it’s more fun if you can hold her hand or kiss her in between problems, right?”

  “Something like that,” Zach mumbled.

  “Exactly like that,” Owen said sharply. “And it’s not okay. You’re not married, and it’s not smart to play like you are.”

  “Like you and Gina?” Zach asked, his eyes blazing now. “I know you sneak off to see her in those closets she’s designing.”

  “I’m an adult,” Owen said. “I can make adult decisions and deal with the consequences. You’re eighteen-years-old with a world of possibilities in front
of you. You want to be an adult and do adult things? Then you have to be willing to pay for those things.”

  “You said you didn’t care about the money.”

  “For college,” Owen said, taking his plate around the counter to the bar. Cooper sat at the end, listening but saying nothing. “But I’m not paying to raise your son.”

  “Dad, I already said I’m not having sex with her!”

  “Who knows what was happening behind that closed door?” Owen hated that he’d raised his voice. He drew in a deep breath through his nose.

  “I know what’s happening behind that closed door,” Zach said, practically dumping the entire container of orange chicken on his plate.

  Owen felt utterly defeated, and he gave Zach a tired look. “Okay, son. I believe you.” The tension remained but at least Zach came around and sat beside Owen. The three of them ate in silence, but Owen was so glad his kids were there, on either side of him. He couldn’t imagine his life without them, and he finished his food and said, “I love you guys. I just want you to be happy. Be ready to be an adult, be mature enough to make good choices, and be happy.”

  “We know, Dad,” Cooper said. Owen looked at Zach, who nodded, his jaw tight.

  “So.” Owen exhaled. “I think we’re drawing out of a hat tonight.” He looked back and forth between Cooper and Zach. “Right?”

  Cooper held up the two slips of paper he’d decorated, and Owen took them from him. But when he faced Zach, he found the boy shaking his head.

  “No, Dad, I decided.”

  “You did?” Owen’s heart skipped a couple of beats. “And?”

  “And I’m staying here.” He got up and retrieved the papers from where they’d been stuck to the fridge for what felt like forever. “I’m going to accept the scholarship and get housing figured out.”

  He sat beside Owen again, and a swell of pride rose through Owen, so different from the emotions he’d felt only twenty minutes ago.

  “What about Maizee?”

  “We’re not that serious, Dad.”

  “You’ve been dating her for eight months.”

  “It’s a loose term.” Zach shrugged.

  “Do you kiss her?” Owen really didn’t understand how dating could be loose.