Page 47 of Falling for the Wrong Billionaire
Her eyes flick to mine briefly before she looks away again, her blush deepening.
We turn into Emma and Bryan’s driveway just as the sun dips low in the sky, casting everything in shades of gold and orange.
“Where are we?”
“Emma and Bryan’s place,”
Lucy frowns, glancing at me. “Why are we at Emma’s house?”
I don’t answer.
Not yet.
She tilts her head at me, suspicious. “Liam…”
“Trust me,” I say with a grin, parking the car and hopping out.
She sighs but follows me anyway, slipping her hand into mine as we walk up the driveway.
As we round the corner of the house, she gasps softly, her eyes going wide.
“Wow,” she whispers, taking in the sight of the house’s wrap-around porch glowing in the soft evening light, the climbing roses trailing up the sides, the little wind chimes dancing in the breeze.
I smile, glancing at her. “It’s beautiful, huh?”
She nods slowly, her voice quiet. “It really is. It… feels like it has history, you know? Like it’s seen things. Felt things.”
“That’s because it has,” I say. “It was Emma’s grandmother’s house. The reason she came back here. The reason she and Bryan ended up together.”
Lucy looks at me, her expression softening. “That makes sense. You can feel it. How much it means to them.”
I nod, squeezing her hand gently. “Exactly.”
She gives me a small smile, but her gaze lingers on the house for a moment longer, as though she’s trying to memorize it.
Then I tug her hand gently, leading her down the side of the house.
She shoots me a teasing look. “You still haven’t told me what you’re up to, you know.”
I smirk. “Patience, Whittier.”
“Not exactly my strong suit,” she mutters under her breath, though there’s amusement in her tone.
We step into the backyard, and her breath catches audibly as she finally sees where we’re headed — the little stretch of privatebeach just beyond the house, the sand catching the last of the sunlight, the waves crashing softly in the distance.
And right in the middle of it all — the picnic I spent the whole afternoon setting up.
A soft blanket laid out on the sand, pillows scattered across it, a wicker basket filled with all her favorites. Lanterns hanging from the low tree branches, casting a warm, golden glow over everything.
She stops walking, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes well up.
“Liam…” she whispers.
I step closer, my voice low but steady. “You deserve this.”
She shakes her head, her voice breaking. “No, I don’t. I… I don’t deserve any of this.”
I move in front of her, tipping her chin up so she has to look at me. “Yes, you do. You deserve all of it, Lucy. And more.”
