Page 18 of Christmas With A Billionaire

“No, that’s Tyson being in love with you.” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing.” I drained my glass. “If he wanted me, he would’ve said something by now. It’s been years. I don’t think he wants to risk our friendship. Or maybe he’s just not interested in the way that you think.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. And neither do you.”

“Says you.”

“Girl, you are crazy. What could go wrong?”

“He’s everything, Tish. He’s my safe place, my biggest supporter, my partner in crime. It would devastate us if we tried for more and it didn’t work.”

“And if it did work?”

Her words floated in the air like a haunting symphony. I remembered waking up beside him last week, how right it felt to be in his arms, how his touch still burned on my skin, and how twenty years of friendship hadn’t dimmed our energy but ignited us.

“You should have seen Victoria Maples flirting with him,” I said instead. “She practically asked him out during the interview.”

“And?”

“And nothing. He barely noticed.”

“Because he was too busy looking at you.” Latisha signaled for another round. “You know what the best part of working at the Institute is?”

“The art?”

“The stories. Every piece tells one - about passion, about courage, about love. And honey, the story you and Tyson are writing is a masterpiece in the making.”

“Or a tragedy.”

“Only if you let it be.” She accepted fresh glasses from the server. “You want to know what I think?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope.” She clinked her glass against mine. “I think you’re scared. Not of losing him, but of admitting how much you want him. Because once you do?—”

“Everything changes.”

“Everything already has.” She touched my hand. “The way you’ve been since starting this project together. The light in your eyes when he calls. Baby, that’s not friendship. That’s love.”

“I slept in his arms last week,” I blurted out.

Latisha’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Not like that. I fell asleep at the building, and he took me home. He stayed like we used to in college.” I spaced out for a long moment. “The next morning, watching him sleep... I wanted...” I sighed. “Everything.”

The admission felt like jumping off a cliff. “But he’s built this amazing life. He has this empire. What if I mess it all up?”

She squeezed my fingers. “That man built a whole art center because you once mentioned wanting to help young artists. Imagine what he’d build if you actually let him love you.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It could be.” She sat back. “He grounds you. Challenges you. Supports you. And you do the same for him.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I saw him yesterday when he surprised you with lunch. The great Tyson Benefield, who makes CEOs nervous, was grinning like a teenager just because you liked the soup he brought.”

I smiled, remembering. He’d driven across town to get my favorite tomato bisque from that tiny cafe we’d discovered in college.

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